


Of Prophecies and Maledictions

by Asgardian_Pirate



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Gore, Established Pacifica/Mabel, F/F, Horror, Human!Bill, Humor, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Psychological Trauma, Sibling Bonding, Violence, magic!Dipper, older!Pines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3597477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardian_Pirate/pseuds/Asgardian_Pirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do not be afraid; our fate<br/>Cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. LQWR ILUH

**Author's Note:**

> "One ought to be afraid of nothing other then things possessed of power to do us harm." - Dante's Inferno

Blood danced down Dipper’s spine. Thick plumes of smoke spilled under the doorway, a behemoth of fire lying just beyond. Gnarled hands grasped at his legs, clawing and pleading for him to join them in their vile symphony of cries and moans, hisses and whispers. A knife, steady in his hand, dripped dark and red; thick as the guilt warring within him. A chant of excuses endlessly filled his mind.

 _It was the only way. You had to, for the sake of your family. Of the lesser of two evils, you chose correctly. Who else could do it but_ you _?_

It was hard to separate his internal assertions from the voices at his feet. His world became muted, colors paling and shapes shifting. His gut told him to run, to refrain from falling victim to the claws that sliced through his jeans and into his skin. The void opened up below him, a maw of darkness and heat, inviting in its promise of escape.

Dipper exhaled. A quick slash with his knife and he was running, the blood on his legs thick and heavy as tar. His dash to the door of the Shack was a parody of slow motion, a seemingly endless struggle for the fresh air and safety of the forest. The vile smoke choked him, tears blinding his vision as he tried to reach for the doorknob. His actions halted as he dropped into the void, his stomach somersaulting as he fell through the darkness. He fell faster and faster until he was plunged into cool water, where he was met with silence and a faint red light. At first, he believed the fire was returning and would soon boil him, but the light simply blinked in and out of existence. Dipper focused on it, his vision ebbing in tandem with each reappearance until everything turned black around him.

_Of the lesser of two evils, you chose correctly._

 

\---

 

Dipper rubbed at his eyes, waiting for his morning caffeine fix to kick in. It was the weekend, and that meant more customer traffic at the Shack. Caffeine was going to save his life, at least for the day.

“Morning, bro bro!” Mabel sing-songed as she made her way into the kitchen, ruffling his mop of hair. “Ready for today? There’s stocking to be done, porches to be swept, pigs to be scrubbed...”

“The latter is definitely your responsibility, Mabel.” She turned to face Dipper, who sipped at his mug nonchalantly. Her amusement softened into sympathy.

“Oh, Dip. Another nightmare?”

Dipper tapped his fingers against his mug before nodding.

“I look that bad, huh?”

Mabel stepped over to the table and sat down across from Dipper, her hands gently curling around his arm.

“Was it different?”

Dipper shook his head. The nightmare remained as constant as the hours in a day. It never varied, and it never failed to cause Dipper to check on his sister and the Shack every time he woke up.

“This is only the...what, third time this month? The frequency has definitely dropped off from...before,” Dipper spoke quietly, hating that this warm, spring morning had turned into a gloomy one. He’d rather not talk about his nightmares, but Mabel insisted that he share them to relieve the weariness that clung to his bones each morning after they occurred.

Mabel rubbed her thumb against his arm, a small smile on her face.

“Maybe that means they’ll eventually go away.”

“I hope so,” Dipper sighed, sipping at his coffee. “Can’t get any real work done when I dwell on them.”

“You wanna do the stocking today? It might help clear your head.”

Dipper squinted at Mabel before sliding his arms out from under her hands.

“You just want me to do the heavy work so you don’t have to!”

Mabel had enough pride to look offended.

“I do not! It’s repetitive work, so you-”

“Won’t have to think about doing it, it’ll all be mechanical, yada yada,” Dipper mocked, fighting the smile trying to break out on his face. Mabel pursed her lips before standing up from the table.

“You know, Dipper, as my brother, you should really have more trust in me.”

“Oh, come on, Mabel, you know I’m just messing with you.” Dipper stood up and walked toward the counter Mabel was trying to look busy at. “I know you have my best interest at hear-”

Mabel twirled around and threw a fistful of powdered sugar into Dipper’s face, effectively cutting off his sentence. Dipper coughed, producing a white cloud around his head.  Mabel snorted. Dipper cracked one eye open to stare at her, his eyelashes sending puffs of sugar down his cheek each time he blinked. Mabel covered her mouth with her hand, failing miserably at containing her laughter.

“You laugh now, but that was the last of our powdered sugar. Weren’t you going to use that on your pancakes?”

Mabel’s eyes shot open and she dramatically wailed against her hand, the muffled sound sending Dipper into a fit of laughter. He patted her head, twisted around, and trotted off towards the stairs.

“‘M taking a shower, have fun cleaning that up!”

Dipper heard a disgruntled 'why me' as he made his way upstairs, and he laughed again, his chest already feeling lighter.

 

Interestingly enough, and despite Grunkle Stan’s reputation for swindling, the Mystery Shack prospered now more than ever. Dipper attributed it to Mabel’s beaming personality and knack for dramatics, but she insisted that he was the brain behind their operation. Ever since Grunkle Stan had passed the Shack into their possession, Dipper had recorded a significant increase in profits (even when they lowered prices on most items, which their Grunkle had a fit over). Business was looking good, but Dipper had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't entirely because of the goods or tours they offered.

_**DIPPER PINES: GRAVITY FALLS’ PARANORMAL PARAGON** _

That’s how newspapers would read. When Dipper and Mabel were twelve, the disappearance of the Society of the Blind Eye paved the way for the demand of new goods and services, particularly those in dealing with the supernatural. Dipper and Mabel had decided that producing their own line of weapons and other items was not the grandest idea, considering that most of the people in Gravity Falls would hurt themselves in the process of using them. Instead, they hired Dipper to deal with magical creatures and malevolent spirits, and Dipper would use those profits to support the Shack and their other endeavors.

While Dipper excelled at his new title, Mabel had a booming pet-sitting business on the side. Dogs, cats, birds, goats, pigs, reptiles, even horses; Mabel was the paragon of pet-sitting. Dipper thought it was good for her,  since Waddles had left them a few years prior. Her compassion for life was inspiring to Dipper. When he was in a bad place mentally and emotionally, he would look to Mabel for her passion and drive for life. He could never really express this to her, and so some days he would simply pull her into a long embrace, and she would somehow understand.

Despite the nightmare from last night and the few gloomy morning hours that followed it, Dipper was in good mood. Mabel was whistling to the eighties tunes playing from the stereo in the corner of the store as he was finishing putting up stock. As he placed the last row of hats on a shelf, he touched his own hat fondly.

“Reminiscing, bro?”

Dipper quickly turned around to see Mabel smiling at him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

“Only about our summers here before we owned the place.”

“You wore that thing all throughout middle and high school. No memories there?” Mabel popped a piece of candy into her mouth and offered one to Dipper, who accepted it.

“Plenty of memories from school, but the hat always reminds me of Gravity Falls, never anything else,” he replied around his mouthful of candy. Mabel shrugged and nodded.

“You did get it our first summer here. God, do you remember the gnomes?”

“The ones that tried to make you their queen? How could I forget?” Dipper chuckled, reaching for another piece of candy. Mabel smacked his hand away, grabbed the one he was reaching for, and smirked.

“Hey!”

“Pear is my favorite flavor! You can’t take it from me.” Dipper scoffed as Mabel chewed on the candy happily. She jumped up on the counter and swung her legs to the beat of the music as Dipper opted for a different piece. After a moment of comfortable silence, Dipper decided to join her on the counter, bumping her with affection. Mabel smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, looking out the window of the Shack store.

“What do you think happened to all the people we knew summers ago?” Mabel asked quietly, barely heard over the radio.

“We still know Pacifica.”

“Yeah, but...the people we helped, or even the creatures we helped. I don’t see many of them around town. I don’t see the creatures at all.”

“People have different paths, Mabel. A lot of them aren't meant to stay in one place their whole lives.”

“Do you think we’re meant to stay in Gravity Falls _our_ whole lives?”

Dipper felt his chest tightening, fondness flooding his system to the point where his eyes became damp. He had never given it any serious thought because living here felt so...normal. Would this be permanent? Would he spend the rest of his life seeking and discovering the mysteries of the town he had come to consider home? He rubbed Mabel’s arm as he stared beyond the tree line, the canopy casting tall shadows in the bright afternoon sun.

“I don’t know, Mabel. All I know is that we’re here now, and that I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Mabel nodded against his shoulder before reaching around to grab another piece of candy. She held a pear flavored piece in her palm out to Dipper, who accepted it with a smile.

 

\----

 

 _Who else could it be but_ you _?_

 

“Dipper?”

Dipper turned towards the hallway to see Mabel standing there, carefully concealed worry on her face. In her hand were the keys to her car and her phone.

“Where are you off to?” He asked, stretching out on the couch.

“I told you a little while ago that I was going to town with Pacifica. It’s movie night!”

“Think she’ll appreciate the sweater?”

Mabel looked down at her sweater, the design an old thirty-five millimeter projector with film strips twisting and curling across the fabric. She looked back up at Dipper and nodded vigorously. Dipper smiled.

“Have fun, then.”

“Are you feeling alright, Dip? I came in here and you were just...staring at the TV.”

Dipper looked to the black screen and frowned.

“I guess I must have zoned out. I’m pretty tired after the rush of customers today.”

Mabel tsked and shook her keys, causing Dipper to raise his eyebrow.

“You’re turning into an old man, Dipper. Old Man Dipper. Ha!” Dipper was about to interject, but Mabel continued. “You sure you don’t want to join us? It’s Saturday night, and we open late tomorrow!”

“I’m alright, Mabel. You go have fun. And _behave_.”

“You know me!” Mabel called from down the hallway. Dipper laughed and leaned back into the couch as he heard the door close. When he heard Mabel’s car pull out of the lot, he sighed and looked at his reflection in the television screen. Frowning as he stared at the glass, Dipper tried to remember when he even sat down to watch TV. A knot of anxiety formed in his gut, causing him to jump up and pace the room. Why couldn’t he remember? Was he just sleep deprived? After a few more moments of pacing, Dipper decided a drink was in order.

The night passed slowly, uneventful in the way Dipper spent most of his Saturday nights; researching under dim lights with a beer in his hand. It wasn’t the rushed type of research, where pages were strewn about the room and Dipper’s hands were stained with ink. Tonight’s research was for the sole purpose of lulling him; pulling him into a sense redundancy and normality. He felt comfortable and in control when he was nose-deep in his books. Hours ticked by like this until his room was bathed in moonlight. He stretched at his desk, feeling more relaxed than he had at the beginning of the evening.

Dipper grabbed his beer cans and made his way downstairs, listening for sounds of Mabel’s car. As he tossed the cans into their recycle bin, he glanced outside to find that Mabel’s parking spot was still empty. He shook his head, hoping the girls weren't getting into too much trouble while they were out. He distinctly remembered the time when Mabel convinced Pacifica to go with her to Skull Fracture and she ended up drinking one of the bikers under the table. That night he dealt with a pukey Mabel but was regaled with the tale of her induction into the bar’s hall of fame.

As Dipper fetched a water bottle from the fridge, he heard a strange gurgling sound coming from the living room. He stepped quietly towards the room, carefully avoiding the creaks in the floorboards. A faint light flickered sporadically as he approached, but his pulse slowed when he realized it was the television.

“Alright, either an electrical issue or a ghost. If it were a ghost, there’d be more signs...” He mumbled to himself, bending to hit the power button on the side of the TV. When the static on the screen failed to disappear, Dipper reached around for the plug and pulled it. The static and the gurgling remained, painting the room in a pale glow. Dipper sighed, stepping around to the front of the screen.

“Are you a spirit?” He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. He would have to update the warding on the Shack.

He waited for a few moments, but the same gurgling continued. “What do you want? Is there a way I can help you?” Nothing. The possibility of this haunting coming from a higher level ghost seemed less and less likely as Dipper waited. From past experiences, Dipper had concluded that if the spirit couldn’t communicate properly to mortals, it wasn’t very strong.

“Maybe you’re just stubborn,” Dipper hummed, sitting down on the couch. The gurgling became a mixture of broken syllables spoken by a voice resembling a distorted animatronic or computer. Dipper reached for the pad and pen he left on the side table and watched the screen attentively.

“If you can’t speak, maybe you could display images on the screen?” He offered, hoping to give the spirit some outlet. If it became frustrated or angry, it would be much harder to deal with. Minutes stretched on as Dipper patiently waited, hoping to catch some information.

“ _Ip_ ,” the voice croaked, flashing an image of wooden wall. Dipper silently wrote the syllable and image down on paper. He moved his pen to the next line, his eyes trained back onto the flashing television screen.

“ _Ip_.” The image of trees flashed, and Dipper took note. “ _IpipipipipipipipipipiperrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR._ ” Dipper dropped his pen to cover his ears, the screech from the television increasing in pitch every few seconds until it stopped. Dipper watched a tree flash several times on the screen, and jumped for his pen that had rolled under the couch.

“ _Pines._ ”

Dipper froze, his breathing labored. His pulse quickened as the TV screeched at him, jolting him to sit upright.

“ _Dipper Pines._ ”

“What do you want?”

The image of the tree continued to flash every three seconds.

“ _Ip-pines. Else... y-you._ ”

“What about me?”

The screen changed to a familiar door, the image flashing again at every three second interval.

“ _The only way._ ”

Dipper’s heart jumped, his pulse thundering in his ears as the image changed to include smoke spilling out of its cracks.

“ _It was the only way._ ”

“Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“ _Ip. Dipper....exuqv zltk xv._ ”

An image of fire surrounded by darkness flashed.

“ _Who else could it be but. You._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins my first story within the Gravity Falls fandom. I cannot guarantee scheduled updates, but I can promise continuation. Until then. ▲


	2. BHOORZ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is it ghosts that truly haunt us, or the memory of our own mistakes that we wish we could undo?” - Laura Lam

Dipper inhaled hot, stale air, the thickness of it heavy in his lungs. He began coughing until he pushed off the blanket covering his face. Vision blurred, he rubbed at his eyes to take in his surroundings, surprised to find that he was sprawled on the couch in the living room.

Dipper sat up, his clothes clinging to his sweat slick skin as he moved his legs out from under the blanket. He felt sluggish, his movements slow as he pulled himself to his feet. He glanced at the open window in the living room, the sounds of bird songs flittering through from the forest. He inhaled deeply, taking in the cool morning air like a glass of ice water. Stepping forward, he stumbled slightly until he grabbed the armrest of the couch to steady himself. How had he ended up spending the night on the couch?  He knew he didn’t drink enough to impair his ability to climb the stairs.

As he glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the blank television screen. Memories rushed back to him, causing his head to throb, sharp and rapid fire pain. He rubbed at his temples as he continued to stare, weary of the sudden change of form that his nightmare had taken.

Frowning, Dipper turned to grab the blanket from the couch and threw it over the TV.

“There. That shouldn’t make me feel better, but I can pretend object permanence isn’t real. For today, at least.”

Dipper’s denial didn’t last long. He clamored about the kitchen, twitchy and feeling anxious, a thread of unfinished sentences jumbled inside his head. He couldn’t think straight, let alone make his damn breakfast without banging into tables and doors and knocking silverware across the floor. He cursed under his breath, his hands trembling as he bent for the scattered spoons and forks.

Wind whispered through the house from the open window. Goosebumps appeared down Dipper’s arm as he threw the utensils into a drawer and slammed it shut, suddenly and irrationally angry.

“Who left the window open anyway?” He growled, marching into the living room. He stopped just short of the window, his eyes trained on the blanket crumpled on the floor in front of the TV. “What, am I in a horror movie now?”

He stared at the screen, almost willing it to suddenly turn on and warn him of his impending demise. Half tempted to take a baseball bat to the thing, Dipper considered that last night wasn’t a nightmare. Maybe it was a spirit warping Dipper’s perceptions? With hands still trembling, Dipper picked up the blanket and threw it back over the TV.

“I need to get out of this house.”

After a quick change, Dipper grabbed his field notebook and left the Shack behind in exchange for the quiet paths through the forest. He focused on the sounds of the birds in the branches and the feel of tree roots beneath his shoes. He set a walking pace that lulled him like a slow tempoed song; sturdy, continuous, grounding. The wind swayed the trees, casting patterned shadows across the well worn paths, an unfurling of canopy leaves touched by the sun.

The weather had warmed up considerably since the time Dipper had woken up, so he stripped his pullover hoodie as he continued to walk, no destination in mind except for escape. Beads of sweat formed the further he traveled, his anger long gone, replaced with an annoyingly persistent thirst.

“Of course I didn’t bring any water. Very intelligent decision, Dip, you’re incredible...” He mumbled as he stopped beneath a large ash tree, it’s shade a welcome retreat from the sun filtering through the canopy. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he glanced around the area, more spacious than expected for as deep into the forest as he was. He looked up at the leaves of the ash tree, some winged seeds visible along the tips of its branches.

“There has to be water somewhere,” he deduced, running his fingers through his hair as he started walking again. Clumps stuck at his temples, his stubble beginning to itch from the drying sweat.

Only a few odd yards away from the ash tree existed a small pond. Deciding the water was too still, Dipper followed the pond up to its incurrent point. With a relieved sigh, he found a small creek and immediately scooped the water into his hands, splashing it on his face. He continued this, soaking his hair and taking long, slow gulps from his cupped hands.

“Probably not the most sanitary thing, but it’ll do.”

Dipper spent a good hour in the clearing, jotting notes and drawings into his field journal, occasionally dipping his hands into the stream to cool himself. After recording observations of possible sprite sightings, he started his way back to the Shack, his skin flushed from the heat and the sun exposure.

A mile of solid walking passed before Dipper began to hear whispers; faint titters over his shoulder or behind trees. He attributed them to the sprites, their knack for mischief not uncommon, before he caught a twirl of fabric in his peripheral.

He turned, tense. Scanning the trees and rocks yielded nothing, only serving to increase his unease.

“ _Ip_ ,” a voice whispered behind him, as fleeting as a breeze. Wheeling around, Dipper sought out the source of the voice, questions and conclusions colliding in cacophony in his mind. A twinkle of a laugh sounded from behind an oak tree fifteen feet away from Dipper, and he rounded until his entire body faced it, his heart beating unevenly.

“Who’s there?”

Naught a breeze responded, the forest seeming to hold it’s breath. Seconds passed as minutes, a slowing of time that had become more of a normality in Dipper’s life than he wanted.

Carefully, Dipper approached the oak tree, his free hand outstretched as a sign of complacency.

“Could you speak to me?” He asked, but the forest lingered in its silence. Dipper paced his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

“Why don’t you come out? You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Exhale.

“ _EH DIUDG_.”

Inhale. “What was that?”

A barefooted girl stepped out to face Dipper. She was young, round in the face with yellow, wind-whipped hair. Her similarly yellow dress was smudged with soot, her eyes trained on the roots of the adjacent tree.

Dipper gripped his field guide, unsure of what he was seeing.

“Are you lost? Do you need help getting home?”

The girl didn’t respond. Dipper shifted on his feet.

“Do you live in Gravity Falls?” Silence. Bated breath.

“Do you live in the forest?”

Green eyes flickered to meet Dipper’s gaze. He swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

“Are...are you the one...Hmm,” Dipper cleared his throat, his tongue dry and thick in his mouth. “Have you been trying to contact me?”

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

The girl screamed, the shrill sound cutting through the forest, an ungodly wail of fear and pain. Dipper covered his ears, unable to move, to escape. The girl suddenly caught fire, her yellow hair catching like hay. Dipper watched horrified as her skin mottled and charred, blood boiling out of the cracks in her arms and the holes in her gut. Her scream turned dissonant, many voices screeching in unison, as bone snapped like pine in the heat of the flames.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

Inhale. Exhale. Run.

 

\---

 

Thunder rolled above the trees, dark clouds swarming angrily across the expanse of sky. Dipper stopped a hundred feet from the Shack to hunch over and vomit, his stomach tightening as the smell of burning flesh lingered in his nostrils. He trembled as he continued heaving, his palms sweaty where he gripped his knees.

As the first pellets of rain began to fall, the cold water soaked through his shirt, effectively bringing him down from the waves of nausea and heat overwhelming him. He glanced back into the woods for signs of smoke or flame, but the rain dripped from his hair and into his eyes, blurring his vision. Turning towards the Shack, Dipper stepped through the quickly forming mud until he reached the porch and opened the front door.

“Oh my God, Dipper! Where have you been? I was worried about you!”

Mabel hugged him, soaked clothes and all, the combination of the rainwater and her light sweater making Dipper’s skin itch. A wave of scents crashed over him, from Mabel’s shampoo to a mixture of copycat perfumes from the mall, and he fought to keep from throwing up again, his senses in overload.

“M..Mabel, you have to listen to me...”

“What were you doing out in the woods? Was there a creature nearby?” Before he could answer, Mabel noticed his field guide in his hand. “Please tell me that cover is waterproof.” Dipper nodded slowly, swaying where he stood until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Next, he felt cushions beneath him, and recognized he had been guided to sit on the couch. His mind was screaming at him to run, to warn Mabel, to do _something_ , but all he could do was stare at the opposite wall and refrain from puking on the floor.

“Dip...you need to get out of those clothes, you’re going to catch a cold. Can you get up?” Dipper shook his head, his vision ebbing in and out. Mabel’s voice sounded far away, barely an echo to Dipper’s ears.

“There’s...sssomething in the woods...”

Mabel gave a small laugh. “There’s an extraordinary amount of things in the woods, Dipper.”

“Mabel, this is....sserious,” he slurred, his world tilting. Mabel grabbed him and pushed him back to sitting upright. Lightning flashed outside the window, everything inside the Shack turning to shadow in contrast to the bright light. Dipper squinted down at the floor, willing it to stop moving. Mabel reached for his hands, which were curled tight in the hem of his shirt, and flattened them out. She turned each hand, one then the other, until his palms faced upward.

“Do you think you can warm yourself up?”

“I feel so...so drained. I don’t have the energy...” Dipper’s head drooped, his shoulders slumping forward as if he was prepared to dive straight into the floor and pass through it.

“Tell me what happened.”

Images of fire and blackened blood flashed before his eyes, his stomach tumultuous in his gut. He tasted bile on the back of his tongue but swallowed it down, his eyes widening as the living room came into focus.

“A girl. A young girl found me in the forest and she just...” Panic rose in chest, making it hard to breath.

“Dip, it’s oka-”

“She died right in front of me, Mabel! She burst into flame and just burned! Her scream...it was horrible, her skin just...flayed off.” Dipper choked on a sob, burying his face in his hands. “God, Mabel, she was just a kid...”

Silence stretched, Dipper’s uneven breathing the only clash against the rain and the thunder.

“I don’t...I don’t know if it was just an apparition, or a forest spirit, or...anything.” He lowered his hands, his palms stained with tears, before looking to Mabel. “It knew me, Mabel. It...it _knew._ ”

“Dipper.” Mabel, ever the strong one, hauled Dipper to his feet before guiding him to the staircase. Slowly, they made it up, and Mabel sent him to the bathroom with fresh towels and clothes. “We’ll talk about this once you clean off and warm up. I’ll make some hot cocoa, okay?”

Dipper nodded appreciatively, his clarity returning to him now that he had something to distract himself.

He stripped, throwing his damp clothes into the corner of the bathroom. Steam rose from the tub, fogging the mirror and filling Dipper’s lungs. As he stepped into the shower, hot water cascaded down his head and shoulders, and he sighed in relief as his muscles relaxed. He washed himself slowly, worried that sudden movements would trigger any dizziness. Once rinsed, he grabbed his towel and dried off before stepping toward the bathroom counter and wiping the fogged mirror with it. Dipper stared at his reflection, now visible, the small scratches and bruises coupled with the dark circles under his eyes didn’t make for a pretty picture. Mabel would say, “just get some sleep!” But the comfort that came with rest was taken from him, and now waking hours offered him no relief.

Dipper trudged to his bedroom to deposit his dirty clothes on the floor, a habit that hadn’t left him since childhood and continued to annoy Mabel to no end. Dragging his feet, he searched his room for a beanie to pull over his damp hair, before spotting one near his pillow. He sat down, grabbed it, and put it on, attempting to ignore the heaviness in his limbs. Time slowed again, or so it seemed, and Dipper felt himself tilt backwards onto the bed without prompt, his eyes growing heavy. Sleep offered him no solace, but he was damned if he couldn’t accept that he wasn’t able to forestall it even if he found a spell for that singular purpose.

 

\---

 

Thick smoke plunged the room in darkness, defiling Dipper’s lungs as it always had, and always would. The fire climbed higher, eating away at the Shack until it’s structure began to crack and crumble. Dipper ran from the charred hands at his feet, his grip tight on the bloodstained knife in his hand. Heart hammering in his chest, he reached for the doorknob, the void below him opening its maw to swallow him. He expected the fall, to be plunged into cold, dark water, but was instead shocked when he felt a blast of cold air hit him.

The door was open, the forest beyond it, and Dipper dropped his knife, the opportunity of escape sending him into a sprint for the trees. Footsteps, heartbeat, breath; all sounds meshed together to make the melody of his flight.

“ _You will not make it out_.”

The voices followed him, whispers from the behind trees, under water, and within the shadows surrounding him. Dipper’s muscles burned as he continued to run, the moonlight splintered through the trees barely enough to keep him from tripping over unseen roots. The blood dripping from the wounds in his legs pulsed faster, red marking the path of his escape. If he could only reach them in time, he’d be able to stop this.

“ _Who else could do it but_ you?”

“ _For your family_.”

“ _You chose evil_.”

Growled words grew louder in his ears, the shadows closing in around him, but Dipper didn’t stop, _couldn’t_ stop. Faster and faster, his blood flowing out into the soil, Dipper ran until he lunged into a thicket and was met with silence. With the voices absent, the sound of his labored breathing filled the clearing he found himself in. He tracked the edge of the area with his eyes, scanning for flames or gnarled fingers. When nothing approached him, he slumped, dizziness overwhelming him.

Dipper dropped to his knees, ignorant of the pain and blood loss he had suffered. His eyes grew heavy. The thought of letting go seemed liked a simple choice; he had escaped, his deeds had painted the sky orange and the earth red. It was over.

A soft, yellow glow began to paint the clearing, and whether it was by flame or the sunrise, Dipper couldn’t tell. He heard a tsking noise somewhere above him, a familiar voice proceeding it.

“It’s about time, Pine Tree. I thought you’d never open that door!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read so far. I didn't expect that many hits on the first chapter, but I was very happy to find out.
> 
> Some clarification for this story in particular: the Pines twins are in their early twenties and have had to deal with/engage with the supernatural in Gravity Falls since the disappearance of the Society of the Blind Eye. This story is an AU in the sense that it diverges from canon, where the laptop was never fixed and the majority of the secrets of the town are still to be discovered. I'll let the rest of the tale unravel as we go along.
> 
> Chapter 3 is already partly done, so the next update is not too far in the future. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. ▲


	3. CBXO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Convictions are more dangerous foes of truth than lies.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Eighties synth pop blasted through the Shack, pulling Dipper out of sleep to see his curtains pulled back and his window opened. The faint smell of pancakes reached his nose, and his stomach responded in kind by growling. He sat up in bed, hair falling down into his eyes, and scratched his back. He stretched and swung his legs over the side of his bed, feeling like he should be remembering something but recalling nothing.

Dipper stepped down the stairs quickly, his mouth watering the closer he got to kitchen. Mabel was dancing, sliding around in her socks as she sung into a spatula, her audience a small turtle, cornered off by wrapped towels, residing in a chair. Pancakes were stacked on the kitchen counter and there were more sizzling in the pan on the stove. Dipper hovered by the kitchen doorway, smiling as he watched his sister hop around the room. With a twirl, Mabel caught his eye and she laughed, ushering him to sit down at the table.

“Breakfast is almost ready, bro bro!” Mabel flipped the pancake on the stove and quickly slid to the living room, the song suddenly changing into one Dipper knew all too well.

“Oh my God,” he laughed, turning in his chair to see Mabel skipping back into the kitchen. “I haven’t listened to this song in months.”

“Then sing with me, Dipper! ‘Disco girl, coming through!’”

“‘That girl is you! Ooh, oooh! Ooh, oooh!’”

The morning passed slow and lazy, good tunes and warm food only bettering Dipper’s mood. However, despite catchy tunes by BABBA and Mabel’s generosity in sharing her newly bought powdered sugar, something continued to nag Dipper, a sensation that left him feeling a twinge of anxiety every few minutes. Mabel picked up on his unease as they washed dishes.

“You feeling alright? The pancakes didn’t taste funny, did they?”

“No, they were great! I just...feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“Maybe it was the hot cocoa I made you last night. You passed out after your shower.”

“Hot cocoa...?”

Everything rushed back to Dipper at once: taking a walk in the woods; the creek; the girl in the yellow dress; throwing up in a damn thunderstorm; Mabel helping him up the Shack’s stairs; his shower. He gripped the towel he was using to dry off the dishes, his nostrils flaring as he tried to control his breathing. Mable noticed and shut off the sink, running out of the kitchen to God knows where. Dipper began to shake, his panic attack peaking, when he was ready to cry out for Mabel to return, to not leave him alone. Mabel soon rushed back in and handed him his hat. Dipper rubbed his thumb across the worn fabric, the action grounding him. Mabel stood by, prepared to help him further, and her presence calmed him enough to allow him to remember that those things had happened but were not happening to him at that moment.

“Thanks, Mabel,” he breathed, discarding his beanie in order to put his old hat on.

“No problem, Dip. We’ll finish these later. Want to help me set up shop?” Dipper nodded and Mabel smiled. “Just let me grab my little friend here and we can head into the store.”

“Are...you pet sitting today?” Dipper followed her as she exited the kitchen and walked down the hallway.

“Yup! Her name is Delilah and I’m her caretaker for today and tomorrow while a family is out of town. Isn’t she cute?”

Mabel held the turtle up and Dipper petted her shell. He found it calmed him.

“Can I hold her?”

“Sure! Just keep your palm flat like this, and hook your thumb over her shell.”

Mabel let Dipper watch Delilah as she set up shop; straightening signs, sweeping floors, stocking shelves. Once she put the drawer in the cash register and flipped the sign to its open side, she sat down next to Dipper behind the counter.

“You wanna stay in your pj’s today? I don’t think the customers will mind.”

Dipper considered it but ended up deciding against the idea.

“Nah, I’ll go change and clean up. Hold Delilah?”

Mabel nodded and took the turtle in her hands as Dipper hopped off his stool and made his way up the stairs towards his bedroom.

It happened like a jolt of electricity, sudden and frightening. Dipper was going through his routine of getting ready, slipping into clean clothes, brushing his teeth and hair, when the rest of his memories from the night before clicked into place.

_About time, Pine Tree._

“MABEL!” Dipper shouted, tripping over the clothes strewn about his room and tumbling out of his bedroom door. “Oh my God... Mabel!” After nearly crashing down the stairs, Dipper burst into the shop, almost running into Mabel and Delilah.

“Dipper, what’s wrong? Do you need me t-”

“It’s Bill! Damn it, Mabel, it’s Bill!”

“Bill?” She asked, her voice suddenly quiet. It wasn’t long before her eyes widened and she was gripping Dipper’s shirt sleeve. “Is...is he the one giving you nightmares?”

“I....I don’t know....” Dipper, still shaken, held onto Mabel’s arm. He thought of Bill’s presence beyond the surface of recent events, his confusion growing.

“What do you mean? Then what has you talking about Bill all of a sudden?”

“Mabel, he was in my dream last night. Well, my nightmare, actually, but-”

“So he _is_ involved in your nightmares!”

“I mean, maybe? But now that I think about all that’s happened, it doesn’t make sense. The girl...the girl in woods knew about my nightmares. Why would he come out of the mindscape, possess a body, and burn it up, when he could just as easily talk to me in my dreams? Not to mention the whole possessed television act.”

“Well, he _is_ dramatic. Wait, our TV is possessed?”

“Oh, yeah, you were out with Pacifica that night. I need to tell you about it.”

“I think that’d be a good idea, Dipper.” Mabel bit her lip nervously, cuddling Delilah closer to her chest. “So...Bill visited you last night?”

Dipper frowned, recalling the events of his nightmare.

“It changed. My nightmare changed. You know how...how I always fall right before I can reach the door?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I made it outside...and I ran. I just kept running, and bleeding, and finally I reached this clearing and...

“And what, Dipper?”

Dipper glanced down at the carpet in the store, the triangle’s eye seeming to stare straight through him.

“Bill said he thought I’d never open the door. Ow!” Mabel smacked Dipper in the arm, her face contorted in anger. It was a look Dipper never liked on his sister, mainly because it scared the shit out of him.

“That means he’s been there, Dipper! If not a few times, then maybe each time you’ve had a nightmare! He’s playing with you! That stupid little triangle, I ought to teach him a lesson for messing with my bro-”

“Whoa, Mabel, careful! You still have Delilah in your hand.” Dipper grabbed Mabel’s shoulders to hold her steady, watching her anger quickly dissipate.

“Oh gosh! Sweet baby, I’m sorry, let me put you in your cage.” Mabel trotted off to the counter to place the turtle carefully inside its cage, patting her lightly on her shell before closing the cage door. Dipper glanced back down at the carpet before staring out of the window and towards the woods, his stomach giving a nervous flip. If it was Bill giving him these nightmares, then he wanted Dipper’s attention. Unwilling to allow Bill inside or near the Shack, Dipper resolved his course of action.

“Mabel, are you alright with watching Delilah and the shop for a few hours?”

“Why? What are yo- No. No, Dipper, absolutely not!”

“What?”

“You’re not summoning Bill!”

“I wasn’t going to summon him! I’m just going to have a talk with him.”

“Dipper, we’re not having another Bipper incident.”

“Can you stop calling it that? And I’m not going to make a deal with him, Mabel. I stopped trusting him a long time ago, if I ever trusted him at all.”

“You trusted him enough to think he’d keep his word, and he didn’t.”

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck and Mabel sighed, stepping out from behind the counter to lean against the front of it.

“Listen to me, Dipper. Every dealing we’ve had with Bill has ended up in disaster. Besides, it’s been years since we’ve even seen or heard from him....not that I’m complaining.” Dipper huffed a small laugh and Mabel walked forward to place a hand on his shoulder, his amusement gone as quickly as it had appeared. “We don’t know if he’s even the same Bill. I don’t see why a demon can’t become more corrupted.” Dipper sighed, his eyes traveling across the floor before meeting Mabel’s concerned gaze.

“All I’m doing is visiting the mindscape. I’ll try to contact him there and talk. That’s it. No deals, no summoning, nothing. If something wrong does happen - hey, don’t give me that look - if something were to happen, I have a Plan B.”

“And what if that plan doesn’t work?”

“Then I have Plan M.”

Mabel squinted at him and Dipper gave her a small smile.

“Plan Mabel.” Dipper watched her face soften and he pulled her into a hug. “I’ll be in my room, meditating. I’ve had enough practice with protection spells, but I know if I need backup, I have my sister.”

Mabel pulled away and sighed, gently patting his cheek.

“Tell the jerk I said hello.”

 

\---

 

Entering the mindscape was easier than Dipper had anticipated. He didn’t know whether it was because he performed the spell to the tee, if Bill had paved the way already, or if it was a combination of both. Either way, he was currently sitting on a stump in the middle of the forest, everything within the landscape in monochrome except for himself.

He had considered using a spell to send off waves of energy like a sonar, wondering if Bill would pick up on it and come floating to the source of the disturbance. Although, his knowledge didn’t extent to any other creatures or beings that inhabited the mindscape, if they existed, and so he decided against revealing his location so readily.

“If he’s been watching me, then he probably already knows I’m here,” Dipper thought aloud, contemplating actively searching for the demon or just allowing Bill to find him.

Minutes ticked by, if the construct of time could be applied to the mindscape, but Dipper remained calm and focused, attuned to his energy reserves and his surroundings. The mindscape was quiet, the only sound protruding the silence being Dipper’s breathing. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, determined to stay calm even if the worst were to happen.

Some would say being familiar with a powerful demon would be exactly that, and Dipper was reminded as soon as said demon’s voice cut through the mindscape and his childhood memories flashed before him like a fast-forward movie.

“Gotta give you props for your gumption, kid. It isn’t often a mortal can access the mindscape.”

Dipper turned to see Bill floating a few feet away, cane twirling in the air.

“I know you don’t want me to waste your time, and I don’t want you to waste mine. So, let me ask my questions, and I’ll leave.”

“Whoa, slow down, Pine Tree! Who said anything about you leaving?” Bill floated over to hover in front of Dipper, his yellow glow washing Dipper’s skin in a sickly color. “Are you sure you know _if_ you can leave? What if I told you that once mortals cross the threshold of the mindscape, their bodies disintegrate and their souls are chained to the first demon that finds them?”

“By that logic, my soul would be chained to you.”

“And oh the fun we would have, Pine Tree.” Bill squinted at Dipper for a few moments before his eye turned blue, flame igniting in his palms before returning to his normal yellow. “Something’s different about you, Pine Tree. How did you say you got here again?”

“I didn’t.”

“Ha ha! Clever, kid. Go ahead. Tell me.”

“I’d rather not. Can we please get back to....what are you doing?”

Bill was poking at Dipper’s arm with his cane, as if testing it for tenderness. Dipper shuddered at the thought.

“I’m not gonna roast you, although I’m sure you’d make a tasty appetizer!”

Dipper stiffened, glaring at the demon as he continued to poke him.

“I’m not really surprised, by how did you-”

“Read your mind? I didn’t. I picked up a thought you shot out into the mindscape. Fear has a knack for causing that, despite how well guarded your thoughts are.” Bill snapped and his cane vanished, his attention now focused on Dipper’s face. “You’re bigger. You still have horrible fashion sense.”

“Hey-”

“But there’s something...off about you.”

“I don’t think you’re qualified to make judgements on my character, Bill. We weren’t exactly allies the last time I saw you, or anytime before that.”

“You forget that I see everything, kid. And I’ve been in your head.” Bill pushed his finger to Dipper’s forehead before Dipper swatted it away. Bill tsked, placing his hands behind his back as he began to float around the stump Dipper was currently sitting on.

“Obviously you haven’t seen everything, or you would know how I got here.”

“Hmm.”

Dipper watched him for a moment, but when Bill said nothing else, he pressed on.

“What were you doing in my nightmare last night?”

“Oh, now we’re getting to good stuff! Quite a scene, Pine Tree. I never knew how much I wanted to see that old shack burn.”

“Answer the question,” Dipper said through gritted teeth.

“For the entertainment! Why else?”

“You didn’t cause the nightmare?”

“The kind of nightmares I cook up are much higher on the horror level than that. They’d send you to the psychiatrist’s office in no time flat.”

“So...”

“So, no, kid, I didn’t plant your nightmare. You concocted that one all on your own.”

“How long have you been watching them?”

“By human standards, I’ve seen at least three months worth. I thought the plot would never progress, but you sure got me interested last night!”

Dipper slumped and rubbed his face with his hands, reconsidering his theory.

“Why the long face?”

Dipper moved his hands to see Bill hovering in front of him, his arms crossed.

“Have you had a vessel lately?”

“Geez, Pine Tree, that sounds like the beginning to a bad pickup line.” Dipper opened his mouth but Bill continued, “The answer is no. Last time I inhabited a body, a couple of prepubescent brats ruined my fun!”

Dipper frowned, standing up from the stump to approach Bill.

“I had to go to the hospital because of that. A lot of other people, including Mabel, could have been hurt, because you lied around our deal!”

Bill rolled his eye. “Demon. You’re an adult fleshbag, you should comprehend this by now.”

“I don’t know why I’m wasting my time here. I got the information from you that I needed, despite the possibility of it all being lies, and I’m done. See you around, Bill! Don’t visit my dreams anymore.”

“Pine Tree, wait up!” Bill called out to Dipper as he stomped away, anger boiling beneath his skin. He had to get to a place away from Bill to calm down and detach himself from the mindscape. Dipper walked through grey and black trees, turning a sharp corner and almost running into the triangle demon.

“What’s your rush? It’s been years, kid. Don’t you wanna know about all the unseen happenings in Gravity Falls since the last time we chatted?”

“Not really.”

“What happened to you, Pine Tree? I thought you loved to seek out the mystery of the unknown.”

Dipper slowed his pace until he stopped, fingers curling into fists by his sides. He felt his magic spark through his blood but contained it.

“Something’s eating away at you, kid. I can see it. And if I can see it, others surely can, too.” Bill’s yellow faded to show an image on Mabel and Dipper felt his chest tightening. “I’ve seen what you’ve been up to recently, and I’m not impressed.” Bill replayed Dipper sulking in his room, baggy eyes pouring over research, mornings where he barely responded to Mabel, his dulled interactions with his clients in town.

Dipper bent his head to stare at the ground, but Bill floated downwards to keep eye contact. He stared  until his body glowed bright yellow.

“You want my help, don’t you, kid?”

“I’m not falling for that again, Bill. If you’re not the one causing my nightmares, we’re done. I have work to do.”

Bill hummed before lifting his hand towards Dipper’s face.

“So be it. But remember, deals are always on the table.”

Bill touched Dipper’s forehead and everything went black.

 

\--

 

Dipper sipped at a second cup of hot cocoa, having promised Mabel to make up for the one his missed the night prior, and curled up on the couch. He felt drained. The trip to and the sudden exit from the mindscape had cost him more energy than he had prepared for, and he had found himself dozing before Mabel had declared it time for a treat. Now, Mabel was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, both of them watching but not really focused on the TV.

“Is it easier to watch now?”

“Not really. I don’t know if or when it’ll try to communicate again. Who even knows if it can possess the same vessel twice?”

“We’ll figure it out, Dip. Let me know if you want me to turn it off.” Dipper hummed in response, blowing on the hot cocoa before taking another sip.

“How many marshmellows did you put in this cup?”

“A lot.”

“I figured.”

Mabel giggled and Dipper smiled, thankful for Mabel’s presence as he recovered from his trip to the mindscape. Mabel hadn’t pressed yet, but he knew questions were coming, and so hit them straight on.

“Bill said he isn’t responsible for my nightmares.” Mabel turned the TV off and spun around on the floor to face him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that’s what he told me. Not so sure if it’s the truth.”

“You never can with him. What else did he say?”

“Some creepy things, some threatening things, offering to make a deal, you know, the usual.”

“Did...did you...”

“No, Mabel, of course not.”

Mabel visibly relaxed and Dipper felt a pang of sympathy. She must had been so worried while he was meditating.

“He said he hasn’t possessed a vessel since me, and that he’s seen that something’s been bothering me. He said I seemed off. He knew that I knew that the nightmare has been affecting me, but I don’t know what he meant by ‘off’.”

“Maybe he can sense your magic? You’ve been practicing warding and barrier spells, so maybe this is confirmation that it works against other magical beings.”

“He could still sense something, so that means it won’t remain hidden from him long.”

“We’ll deal with that once it’s at our doorstep. In the meantime...” Mabel reached up and grabbed Dipper’s mug from his hand. He groggily moved his arm to get it back, but failed and slumped back into the couch. “You should really get some sleep, Dip. It’s getting late.”

“It’s, what, seven in the evening?”

“You’ve done a lot today, and you were on the verge of making bubbles in your mug.”

Dipper rolled his eyes as Mabel laughed, offering her hand to help him stand. Mabel walked him to the stairs and they said their goodnights before Dipper grudgingly climbed up them and shuffled his way into his bedroom, where he immediately collapsed onto his bed.

 

Fire and smoke, ash and blood. Dipper evaded grasping hands to reach the door, his hand outstretched as he felt the void opening up beneath him. A voice rang from outside the shack, distinct from the voices that surrounded him. He grasped the handle and threw open the door, sprinting out into the cold air. He carried the knife with him to the sound of the new voice.

A yellow glow pulsed within the woods, and Dipper made his way to it, only to find Bill.

“Atta boy, Pine Tree! Now your dream can deviate any way you want it to!”

Dipper stared, feeling out of phase. Bill frowned, crossing his arms as he approached him.

“Come on, kid, snap out of it. You can control your dreams. Show me how creative you can be.”

Dipper looked past Bill, deeper into the woods, and stepped around him. He had to reach the clearing, it was the only way.

“Don’t be a spoil sport. Make the Mystery Shack blow up! Make it rain dismembered limbs! Pine Tree?”

The voices licked up Dipper’s spine, driving him further and further in the shadow.

“ _You chose wisely_.”

Bill hovered after Dipper, his shade of yellow tinting as he became impatient.

“Where are you going?”

Dipper halted suddenly, the hand holding his bloodstained knife shaking as he stared into the shadow. Cold terror rose like ocean waves and Dipper felt chained to the earth, doomed to drown. He felt Bill over his shoulder, watching, as the girl in the yellow dress stepped out from behind a tree. Dipper’s pulsed bounded as his throat closing up, his breathing hindered. Drowning, drowning, drowning.

The girl screamed, blood and fire painting the forest in a horrendous composition. Tears brimmed Dipper’s eyes as he watched her burn, voices rising like a dissonant chorus. Bill laughed beside him, and Dipper turned to him, horrified.

“This is new! I like your style, kid. Who knew you could come up wi-”

“I told you to stay out,” Dipper hissed, his grip on the knife tightening. Bill rolled his eye.

“Please, as if I would miss out on-”

“Get out.”

Bill said nothing as he hovered closer to Dipper, curious, but Dipper reared back and held up his empty palm.

“Get out!” He shouted, a blast of magic shooting down his arm and out his hand, hitting Bill and sending him flying backwards. Bill recovered, his form growing larger as his body turned red. Flame swallowed his hands and his eye grew dark as he loomed over the forest.

“Why you little-”

The earth rumbled as Dipper shook, power building in his core until he let it out in a scream. Wave upon wave of energy pulsated around him, bending the trees and phasing Bill out of his dream.

It was finished. Dipper collapsed to his knees, and the charred form of the girl approached him, reaching out to touch and share her flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this update! Thank you again for reading. I'll try to update again soon. ▲
> 
> P.S. A fanmix is in the works for this fic, but it will most likely be posted later when the story has progressed more. I'll post the link here whenever it's finished.


	4. YILLA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...The second you make yourself vulnerable to someone, they start drawing blood." - Poppy Z. Brite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating in a while. April was the last month of my spring semester and I was ridiculously busy. Now that I have some free time, I'll try to update more often. Hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you so much for more than one hundred kudos!

_He_ was unmistakably, incredibly angry, and if Dipper couldn’t get his hands on some painkillers, he was going to start tearing his hair out. The only analogy he was able to use to describe to Mabel exactly what was going on with him  was the analogy of a fish tank. The fish tank was his head, his mind the fish within it, and Bill was the kid who was continuously tapping the glass to get a reaction from the fish. Except it was more like taking a sledgehammer to plexiglass, the relentlessness in the attack unfailing in giving Dipper some of the worst headaches he’d ever had in his life.

“What’s with the face, Dipper? Brainfreeze?” Pacifica rose her eyebrow at Dipper as she lifted her slurpee cup to drink from the straw. Dipper, hands clutched to his hair in efforts to stop the pounding at his temples, glared at her.

“He’s barely touched his slurpee,” Mabel chimed, making loud slurping sounds as she greedily consumed her drink. “Does it taste funky, Dip? I told you not to mix the flavors.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Dipper mumbled, closing his eyes as he massaged his scalp. He had to get back to his research as soon as he and Mabel were back at the shack. Mabel reached over to lay her hand on his arm, but he jerked away with a small yelp. “Your hand is freezing!”

“Oops...sorry, bro bro.” Mabel’s face fought between being sheepish and amused, but Pacifica laughed outright, the bracelets on her arm jingling as she reached across the table to touch Dipper with her chilled hands.

“You guys, cut it out! I’m not really in the mood to...hold on.” Dipper grabbed Pacifica’s hands and placed them on his temples, immediately sighing in relief as the pain subsided. The nagging sensation remained in the back of his head, but he decided to count his blessings.

“Quit being weird, Pines. If you really want that demon gone you should just banish him already.”

“Kind of hard to do when he isn’t technically _here_ ,” Dipper released Pacifica’s hands and reached for his melting slurpee, immediately pressing it to his head.

“You said he was a dream demon, right?” Pacifica asked, and both Dipper and Mabel nodded. “Then how is he affecting you when you’re not asleep right now?”

“Grunkle Stan once explained it to us like this.” Mabel took a sip of her drink before continuing. “The mindscape is a dimension layered on top of ours; it exists around and within us. Think of it like the shopping mall we’re in right now with its two floors. The mall is our reality, the first floor is what we can perceive around us, and the second floor is the mindscape. We can’t see it right now, but we’re aware it’s there.”

“The shops could represent doorways to different personal mindscapes,” Dipper added, placing his cup on their table. “Bill lives in the mindscape and can access dreams. But when a person is awake, it takes a lot more effort on his part, and a surrender on the human’s part, to allow him in.”

“So, he’s right outside the barrier between the general mindscape and your mind’s door specifically?” Dipper gave Pacifica a small smile.

“Exactly.”

Mabel threaded her fingers through Pacifica’s and gaze a squeeze, Pacifica giving a quick sigh before Mabel spoke to her.

“You’re doing great! This paranormal and supernatural stuff isn’t that bad, is it?”

“Knowing about it and being involved with it are two very different things,” Pacifica replied, finishing off her slurpee. She gave a pointed glare at Dipper, who raised his hands in defense.

“Don’t look at me, Mabel thought you should be included in this whole.....”

“Hallucinating burning children and suffering from a dream demon with a temper ‘thing?’” Pacifica finished, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. Dipper’s mouth opened and closed, and Pacifica’s eyebrow rose as she watched Dipper attempt to formulate a response.

“Yeah. I guess you could call it that.”

 

The trip back to the shack from the mall started as uneventful, Dipper’s attempts to ignore Bill worsening as their car traveled. The only true distraction was Mabel’s singing to the pop tunes coming from the car stereo. Dipper’s head lolled against his headrest as they drove across pothole filled and gravel roads, the back of the car receiving the worst of the turbulence. His head throbbed, white noise beginning to fill his ears and eventually drowning out Mabel’s and Pacifica’s conversation.

Soon, everything was silent. Dipper stared at the passing forest, green blurs shifting and changing past his window. He squinted his eyes against the pain reverberating within his skull until a distorted voice broke through the silence. Vowels and consonants ricocheted against one another, the dissonance building as anger suddenly poured through him, foreign emotion surging through his system and triggering his fight or flight response.

_P I N E  T R E E_

The sound of a car door being shut cut off Bill’s voice and snapped Dipper out of his trance. They were already at the shack. Mabel was standing outside the car, holding Dipper’s door open and staring down at him. Pacifica stood a few feet away, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Dip...are you alright? You were hyperventilati-”

Dipper jolted from the car, nearly knocking Mabel off balance as he sprinted for the woods. He heard both Mabel and Pacifica call after him, their voices growing dim as the white noise resumed and clouded his mind. His own heartbeat, much like his breathing, sounded muffled and distant as he hurdled over twisting tree roots, unable to slow down or retreat to the shack.

He felt hunted. A continuous presence slithered across his skin, spiraling around his limbs and down his back, making his skin crawl and his desire to run increase. He wasn’t sure how far he ran, feeling disconnected from time. He briefly wondered if he was in limbo; if he had died years ago and was just now discovering the frayed edges of the vail and where he was trapped.

A boom like thunder exploded around him, and he cried out, falling to the forest floor. He glanced at his skinned hands and knees, the blood accumulating in droplets creating a pattern on his flushed skin. Another boom sounded, almost as a warning that preceded a torrential downpour, and Dipper hunched over, his damaged hands covering his ears.

A succession of booming sounds followed, unrelenting and painful, and Dipper realized it was coming from within his head.

“Bill!” He cried out, his voice hoarse. He shook, his body exhausted from the onslaught. “What the hell are you _doing_?”

A rising of discordant mixture of syllables echoed in his head before another boom struck. Dipper flinched, his fingernails digging into his skin around his ears. Anger spilled in, but Dipper’s own raged back and engulfed the foreign emotions. The booming increased, nonstop, as loud as infantry cannons. Dipper’s blood boiled, his tongue thick behind grit teeth.

“Stop...” He whispered, but the demon continued and Dipper all but snapped. “ _Enough_!”

The immediate area caught fire, the flames shooting upwards, catching the lowest tree limbs. The forest floor burned around him, and the booming stopped. Dipper’s mind cleared, time seeming to return to him as did his hearing, the cackling of the fire and the heat of it suddenly making it very real. Dipper opened his eyes, the horror he felt becoming a catalyst for him to _move_ , his fatigued body rising from the ground.

He concentrated what energy he had left in dispersing the flames, the remnants of heat circling his body before they lifted into the forest air. He looked back down at his hands, his blood slowly leaking from the widened gashes. Dipper tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tips of the canopy painted with the start of the sunset.

“Great...just what I need...” Dipper attempted looking for a trail of his own footprints to lead him back. He guiltily overstepped the burnt foliage, deciding to place a small tracer in order to return and attempt to mend the area he had accidentally destroyed. Once he found his footprints, the trail only led him so far; the thinning of the topsoil hadn’t held the shape of his shoe prints.

Dipper sat down beneath a tall conifer, tilting his head back against the trunk as the cool evening air chilled his sweat clad skin. He resisted moving. His anxiety made him want to run again, but his energy was drained enough to where he couldn’t even begin healing the small scrapes on his knees. He sought out his connection with Mabel, sending her a form of SOS, before his body began to shut down. Before he drifted into unconsciousness, he felt a foreign emotion spark inside his mind; something a little like joy.

 

\---

 

The smell of fresh coffee on his bedside table woke him. Dipper’s eyes shot open, taking in his surroundings before relaxing, his body sore as he stretched. He heard soft voices in the hallway and the jingle of jewelry clinking together, the sound making the corners of mouth twitch.

“You guys can come in, you know,” he spoke out to them, his voice just as, if not more, hoarse than before he fell unconscious in the forest. Mabel stepped carefully into his room, Pacifica close behind, and they both sat down in the chairs pulled up to his bed. Dipper sighed, licking at his cracked lips.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Mabel stared at him, her lips trembling as she wrung the sleeves of her sweater.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” she replied, her voice quiet. “We’ve talked about it before, but I...I didn’t realize how...intense it would be.”

“The fact that we’re twins makes the bond stronger, and so makes the signal stronger.” Dipper paused, glancing at Pacifica before returning his gaze on his sister. “Did it hurt?”

Mabel shook her head, strands of her hair falling into her face before she tucked them behind her ear.

“No. I mean, yes, but it wasn’t my pain, it was...it was a little pain, but a lot of fear. And...” Mabel paused, her eyes trailing the folds of Dipper’s blanket. Pacifica ran her finger softly against Mabel’s upper arm.

“And what, Mabel?”

“Anger. A-and heat. Like ten times worse than a sunburn.” Dipper huffed a laugh, and Mabel managed a small smile before rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “I was really scared that something awful happened, Dip. Why were you so angry?”

Dipper swallowed, his fingers tightening on his blanket before he released it again.

“It wasn’t all mine.”

“Bill?”

Dipper nodded.

“I felt it most in the car ride home. But when I was in the woods, it’s like...it amplified my own. Enough to...” He looked between the both Pacifica and Mabel, scared enough to lie but willing to ask forgiveness. “Enough to start a fire.”

Mabel gasped, but Pacifica spoke first.

“Was it contained?”

Dipper nodded again, guilt making his stomach twist. He looked out of his window, the light of approaching dawn washing the sky.

“I stopped it, after Bill stopped.”

“Stopped what?”

“Bothering me. As soon as I created the fire, he stopped... _torturing_ me to pay attention to him. Or to open up to him, I don’t know...”

“Sounds like he was trying to rile you up, see if he could set you off. Like a time bomb.”

Dipper turned his head to face Pacifica, considering her words. He nodded, sitting up enough to grab his coffee and sip at it. Mabel looked more relieved, her body not as tense in her chair as it had been.

They stayed with him for a while, the prevailing silence only broken when one of the girls had a question. Dipper responded, but without much enthusiasm. He was tired, and tired of theories, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Pacifica offered for the body guard the had carried Dipper from the forest to remain at the shack, just in case, but both Mabel and Dipper declined. Mabel and Pacifica gave each other soft goodbyes and even softer kisses in the hallway before Pacifica left. Dipper’s guilt returned, knowing how much trouble he had put them both through just over the course of the night.

“I’m going to let you rest,” Mabel said, setting down a sandwich and a glass of water. Dipper hadn’t felt hungry, but at the sight and smell of food, he realized he was starving.

“Thanks, Mabel. Really, I...owe you.”

Mabel shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“We’re siblings, bro. We’re supposed to take care of each other.”

“We’re also not supposed to make each other worry,” Dipper replied, fingers tracing the condensation on his water glass. Mabel laid her hand on his arm, her touch warm. Safe.

“Life likes to surprise us. As long as we’re together for the ride, I don’t mind doing what it takes to help make it as smooth as possible.”

Dipper looked up at his sister, a swell of emotion filling his chest. He set down his glass and stood up, to the protest of his twin, and embraced her. She immediately returned it, her arms wrapped tightly across his back.

“Love you, Dip.”

“Love you, too, Mabes.”

 

Dipper slept through morning, although he didn’t dream. Or, maybe he did, and what he remembered was simply a void in which he was endlessly floating in. Worry nestled in his chest as he woke, wary of the sudden absence of a certain dream demon. Whatever Bill was trying to prove, he wasn't sure.

He felt recharged, for the most part, his body still sore but his scrapes and gashes healing nicely. He decided to let them heal naturally instead of expending his energy on making them heal faster; he needed it to help Mabel with the shop today.

The afternoon sun had warmed the house considerably, Dipper noted as he walked down the stairs after getting dressed. The weather was beginning to stay true to the spring season. Soon enough it’d be summer, and Dipper would have to prepare for all of the creatures and entities that would soon wake up.

“Dip, what are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to take the day off.”

Dipper shrugged, moving towards the vending machine. He scanned the selection, mentally cataloguing what needed to be restocked.

“I’m feeling better. Thought I’d help you with the shop instead of lazing around.”

“You’re healing. You’re supposed to laze.” Dipper gave her a smile and Mabel rolled her eyes, returning to her work of placing a new sticker on the cash register. The new sticker resembled a velociraptor in a dress, with the words ‘You look beautiful!’ in pastel green across the bottom. Dipper held in a laugh and continued his survey of the vending machine.

The day stretched, business being slow, but Dipper was silently thankful for it. He believed Mabel was as well, with the way she yawned and stretched in her seat behind the cash register every ten or so minutes. Dipper felt another shot of guilt; she no doubt stayed up all of the previous night in order to watch over him.

“Why don’t we close shop early and have a movie night? I don’t think we’ll be getting many more tourists today.”

Mabel beamed at Dipper and nodded, the both of them hurrying to close shop and change into their pajamas. They collected snacks and drinks from the kitchen and set them in the living room, before Mabel tucked into a blanket on the couch. Dipper looked through their movie collection, humming as he scanned the titles.

“What do you feel like watching, Mabel?”

“Hmm, how about a Disney movie? I’m kind of in a Hercules mood.”

They watched, sharing their snacks and laughing as the movie progressed, until they put another movie in - Princess and the Frog this time - and relaxed against one another underneath their shared blanket. Mabel began to drift off, her eyelids drooping every few minutes, until Dipper mentioned it and offered to turn the movie off. Mabel insisted they let the movie play before pouring herself a large glass of caffeinated soda. Dipper laughed at how concentrated she looked as she took large gulps, determined to enjoy movie night.

The movie was nearing the end when Mabel’s phone flashed, signaled she had received a text message. She read it and replied, but before she could set it back on the table, it flashed again. Frowning, she read the message and then reached for the remote.

“Dipper, turn on the news," she said, handing him the remote. Dipper frowned, but did as she asked as she replied to whoever was texting her. He glanced at her before looking towards the screen, where there was live coverage of a building being investigated by police.

“ _-where we see the obvious signs of a break in. The building has been abandoned for the past six years, having never been picked up for a reconstruction contract. The man inside, a twenty-seven year old Jason Parkmont, was last seen escaping the Gravity Falls hospital, where he was being treated for terminal cancer. Hospital staff are worried that Jason intends to harm himself, as he has been, quote, ‘mumbling about transformations and visions of blood nearly nonstop for the previous twelve hours.’ It has been reported that Jason had past dealings in the occult, and officials are now monitoring the building the man has retreated into. Jason has reportedly told police to stay out, and so police are taking proper precautions for the suspicious behavior. No other word has been heard from the suspect. We’ll continue coverage as the night goes on to keep the community informed-_ ”

Dipper muted the television, turning to Mabel. Her eyes conveyed worry, her mouth set in a tight line. No traces of fatigue could be found in her now.

“You think we should check it out?” She asked. Dipper nodded.

“If Jason is being manipulated by an entity, then yeah, I think we should get involved.”

They packed their equipment quickly and efficiently, the movie and snacks left forgotten in the living room. Mabel unlocked their car and Dipper hopped in the passenger’s seat. By the time Dipper put on his seat belt, Mabel was already heading out of the driveway and onto the main road.

They arrived on scene, parking the car across the street, when the news anchor spotted them. Dipper mumbled to Mabel and they split off, expertly avoiding both the cameramen and the police. Dipper spotted a compromised window on the far side of the building and set to work getting it open. The wood creaked against the friction, the sound interrupting the silence. Dipper decided to make due with what little space he had to make it through the window in lieu of alerting Jason, or whatever was influencing him.

Dipper climbed into the building and began to walk, his breathing steady as he searched each room for the man. He couldn’t sense anything other than himself and Mabel’s presence nearby, but his heart quickened in fear that they would find Jason in a state much worse than when he had left the hospital.

He thought over what the news anchor had said, about Jason mentioning visions of blood and something about transforming. The news tended to overexaggerate their reports, earning viewings that way. The more cryptic and strange the story, the better. A feeling in Dipper’s gut had him thinking that this influence over Jason _wanted_ to be dramatic. What did drama need if not a stage to perform on?

Dipper sent a quick text to Mabel, telling her to look for the largest room in the building. It didn’t take long for Dipper to discover it on the second floor; a large conference room, by the look of it, with a raised area in the front for presentations. Dipper saw the glow of dozens of candles near the back of the room before he heard scratching sounds and quiet sobbing. He approached the hunched form of Jason cautiously, hands already out to show he meant no harm.

“Jason Parkmont?”

Jason continued his carving, his knife inscribing the floor with sigils Dipper had never laid eyes on. Dipper picked up on some of Jason's broken Latin, catching only fragments of phrases.

“Jason, I’m here to help you.”

“He’s the only one that can help me,” the man mumbled, sniffing loudly as he finished carving the wooden floor.

“Who’s ‘he’?” Dipper asked, feeling the presence of Mabel behind him as she watched.

Jason didn’t reply, expertly arranging the candles around his sigils. The sigils looked familiar to those of a summoning, but there were various symbols that Dipper was unfamiliar with. Jason stiffened when the echo of footsteps sounded from the floor below them.

“I have to hurry...” Jason quickly sliced open his hand, allowing the blood to fill certain characters on the floor. Mabel inhaled, moving to step forward, but Dipper stopped her with his arm.

“Jason, you gotta tell me who ‘he’ is before you get hurt! It’s the only way to help you!” Dipper called to him. Jason finally looked up, his face sickly and pale, red from where he had been crying. His eyes frantically bounced between the twins, finally settling on Dipper. He stared emptily, as if his mind was somewhere else, and Dipper took a step closer. Jason suddenly snapped back, his face furious as he stood from the floor.

“Get out!” He roared, pointing at Dipper with his bloodied hand. “You shouldn’t be here, you’ll ruin _everything_!”

Dipper stepped forward and Jason raised his knife, causing Dipper to hold his hands up higher and back up. Jason fell back down to the floor and began chanting, cutting the same hand again to supply the ritual with more blood. Dipper made a move forward again, but Mabel grabbed onto his jacket.

“Do you want to be stabbed, Dipper?!” She whispered. "There's gotta be a better way to approach this."

“Mabel, we don't have time. Whatever he is summoning, o-or creating, could be far more dangerous if we don’t stop him!”

Mabel considered his words before letting him go, but followed him as he made his way closer to Jason. The man sounded manic, his voice choked between a laugh and a sob as he continued to chant. The only door to the conference room shut hard behind them, the windows rattling with a gathering force that Dipper could sense surrounding Jason. His anxiety threatened to close up his lungs, but he pushed forward, his eyes trained on Jason’s knife.

A sudden unseen blast pushed out from Jason, knocking both Dipper and Mabel back with a shout. The police pounded against the conference room door, and Mabel reached up to open it, only to be shocked back.

“Mabel!” Dipper crawled over to her limp form, checking her vitals to find she had been knocked unconscious. Jason laughed, energy pulsating in waves around him. Dipper got to his feet and ran for him, shielding himself to get through the barrier and to its source. He tackled Jason, the man struggling as he reached for his knife, now amiss from his hand.  Dipper grabbed it, pinning Jason down with his body. The man struggled for an opportunity to flip Dipper over but failed as Dipper punched his abdomen, knocking the breath out of him. Jason weezed, muttering a few words in Latin before going still beneath Dipper.

Dipper observed his face change into something more sinister. The man laughed as Dipper hovered above him, his hand white-knuckled around the bloodstained knife.

“Ah, look at you,” the man below him said, smile almost reptilian. His voice was calm in juxtaposition from moments ago. He reached up and thumbed Dipper’s cheek with his bloodied hand, smearing a rust colored line down his face. The gesture was intimate, Dipper too shocked to move his tense muscles to retaliate. “You let this happen."

The man slammed his bloodied hand onto a sigil on the floor, a blast of energy knocking Dipper onto his back. The fire of the candles rose, bright and hot. Dipper felt a transfer of energy from one side of the room to the other, the walls of the room shaking. There was a flash of blue light before everything went silent.

Dipper looked at Jason’s limp form, unable to move more than his neck. He heard footsteps across the room, slaps of skin against wood, as they made their way back towards Dipper’s supine form. Dipper tracked the bare feet from under the table, his line of sight skewed by the chairs. The figure paused, as if contemplating an action, until the police resumed their assault on the door, and the figure suddenly disappeared. Dipper blinked and tried to move his body, his actions sluggish as tried to turn onto his side. He slid his body closer to the door a mere two inches before he stopped, panting. He gave up, surrendering to the cold floor as he was exhausted and overwhelmed. He glanced at Mabel, then back down towards Jason, when he noticed he was still clutching the man’s knife. He groaned and tossed the knife as far away from himself as he could.

The police finally broke the door open, rushing in to observe the scene, the sound of their boots echoing across the floor. The clinking of their handcuffs and the clicking of their weapons sounded muddled, beyond what Dipper's mind could currently interpret. He watched as candle smoke twisted in the light of their flashlights before his world turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr? I might start posting tidbits of chapters as I work on them. I'm thinking of starting to fill the tag for this fic as well.  
> ▲ Find me here: http://inkaijuwetrust.tumblr.com/


	5. PEXALTP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." - H.P. Lovecraft

The dawn light cast the hospital room in dull shades, colors shifting and morphing as the light filled the space within white washed walls. A trickle of artificial light shown under the room door, soft voices and whispers of clothes sliding together reaching Dipper’s ears as he regained his senses. The ebb and flow of pain and displaced emotions made him feel off balance, dizzy and nauseous as though he was caught on open water, at the mercy of the waves.

He remembered blood. Blood and fire and malintent. Words muttered from borrowed lips.

Consciousness escaped him; for minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell. Light changed, though the drip of his IV was constant, the monotonous sound an undertone to the waves to which he was subjected. The heart monitor either sounded distant or completely absent, he noted at some point. He briefly wondered, again, if he had died. Although, he couldn’t think of a reason as to why he’d be in a hospital in the afterlife unless he was haunting the building itself. The next time he woke, he laughed at himself, the sun bright where it streamed through the blinds hanging from the windows.

Mabel visited him. Her words were hard to comprehend, as if they were spoken under water. He’d tried to answer her, unsure if what he said made sense, if anything passed his lips at all. He’d woken up to find her gone, the smell of Pacifica’s perfume lingering.

He continued to float between sleep and wakefulness. A sense of unease crescendoed as he woke blurry-eyed to find a figure in the corner of the room, the shadow a stark contrast to the outside light. Unable to recognize the figure, Dipper struggled in his bed, slow in his movements and much too weak to do more than drape his arm over the bed’s barrier.

“Who...” Dipper managed to whisper, his mouth dry. The figure didn’t move, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Dipper squinted and lifted a shaky hand, attempting to usher the person closer. With a lazy shift, the figure stood up from their leaning position in the corner, a small huff escaping their lips. Dipper thought it could have been laughter before he slipped back into the next ebb of pain and subsequent sleep.

There was a long stretch of black before Dipper woke with stronger clarity than before. He breathed deeply, the comfortable temperature of the room allowing him to shed his blanket. Stretching cautiously, unsure of the extent of his injuries, he sighed, the need for a shower and a hot meal sudden and overwhelming. However, what he _really_ needed at the moment was to use the bathroom. He ripped off his heart monitor pads, and as he moved, his IV line pulled. He hissed as the needle in his arm moved.

“Nurse,” he called, frowning at the gross texture of his mouth. Okay, so he needed to brush his teeth, too. Just how long had he been out?

“What do you need, Mr. Pines?” The nurse asked as she entered his room, her scrubs a soft shade of purple.

“Please, call me Dipper,” he replied, groaning at his stiff muscles as he sat up. “I was wondering if you could unhook my IV line? I really need to use the bathroom.”

“The IV line is to prevent dehydration, sir. If you’d like, I could assist you in rolling the IV pole to the restroom.”

“No, no, it’s alright, I’ll manage.” Dipper swung his legs over his bed, stretching once more before attempting to stand. He grabbed his IV stand for leverage and began moving towards the bathroom within his room when he stopped in front of the nurse.

“Uh, how long have I been in here?”

“You’ve been here for three days, sir.”

Dipper’s eyes bugged, his grip on the IV pole tightening.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you were brave to help Mr. Parkmont, troubled as he was. Your injuries could have been far worse, but you probably saved the man’s life.”

“What, exactly, are my injuries?”

The nurse breathed as she adjusted the clipboard in her arms.

“You were stabbed. A clean cut through the right lateral region of your abdomen.” The nurse pointed at the injured area and Dipper reached down to his right side, flinching in pain as soon as he made contact. “The wound is two point one centimeters deep. You can check the full line of stitches in the restroom mirror.”

Dipper swallowed, nodding faintly before he made his way to the restroom and closed the door. He quickly opened his hospital gown to reveal an angry red line, at least an inch wide, held together with black stitches. His head began to throb, the smell of blood faint in the cool hospital air. Flashes of images of wicked smiles and foreign characters carved in haste ricocheted through his mind. He moaned, leaning over the bathroom sink, his hands sweaty as they gripped its rounded edges.

Dipper observed his reflection; greasy bangs falling limp across his forehead, bags under his eyes, and a faint sheen on his unwashed skin from layers of oil and sweat. He grimaced, inclined to take the bathroom hand soap and begin scrubbing himself. After using the toilet, Dipper washed his hands and cautiously walked back into his room, searching for the nurse. She was still there, hunched over to check the leads and pads of his heart monitor.

“Sorry about ripping those off, I was kinda in a hurry to get out of bed.”

“It’s no problem, sir. Please remember that there are hospital staff right outside in the hall and we are willing to assist you.”

Dipper nodded, but realized she couldn’t see the motion with her back to him, and so he replied with a quiet, “Yes ma’am.”

After a lull in their communication, Dipper shifted his weight and began fidgeting with his IV line, his mind spacing and tracking back to grey washed memories in the hospital bed.

“Sir.” Dipper focused back on the nurse, the woman adjusting her stethoscope before picking her clipboard from the bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Um, yeah. I really wouldn’t mind a shower. And a toothbrush. I’m feeling pretty hungry, too.”

“I’ll check with the doctor to confirm that you are able to shower, although you will have to cover your stitches.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime. I’ll be sure that your meal will be waiting for you.”  

The doctor allowed removal of his IV, as well as his other requests. Dipper brushed his teeth first, feeling relieved and refreshed at the cool mint taste of his toothpaste. Before he showered, he was told by a different nurse that his sister was waiting in his hospital room with a fresh pair of clothes; he was going to be able to leave after a last round of tests. He showered quickly, careful to avoid his covered stitches, and hurried back to his room.

“Dipper!” Mabel crowed as he entered, flinging her arms around his neck. She kissed his forehead and ruffled his damp hair, her smile bright and warm. Dipper felt his weariness wash out of his bones in a way his shower hadn’t allowed him.

“Careful, Mabel...” He smiled, holding onto her arms as she backed away from him.

“I’m sorry! Forgot the whole wound thing,” she snorted, her relief turned into giddiness. “I’m so glad you’re awake! And clean. You were starting to stink up the whole room, bro.”

“Considering that I was unconscious for nearly three days, I think my stink should be excused.” Dipper watched as Mabel’s face sobered and felt her thumb rub at his wrist.

“I was really worried about you, Dip. The doctor was confused. You didn’t lose that much blood, but you couldn’t stay awake. I kept thinking that it was a symptom...of another nature.” Her voice gradually dropped into a whisper, one eyebrow raising in search for agreement. Dipper nodded curtly, pulling her into another hug before heading towards his bed, where he found a fresh set of clothes that the nurse had mentioned. He knew she meant something to do with his magic, but since they weren't exactly public with his abilities, they had to be careful of what they spoke about when anyone could hear them.

He dressed himself in the room’s bathroom and found Mabel patiently waiting in a chair, her hair falling in curtains as she typed on her phone. He guessed she was texting Pacifica, no doubt planning some form of a welcome home celebration. Dipper laughed at the thought before a memory of a shadowed figure surfaced. Dipper turned to stare at the room’s far corner, unease returning and curling in his gut.

After his stitches were checked, he began the process of signing out of the hospital at the front desk. He bit at his lip nervously as Mabel chatted on her phone near the building’s outpatient doors. Tapping his fingers on the counter, Dipper leaned closer to the receptionist.

“How many total visitors did I have?”

The receptionist glanced at him while he typed on his keyboard, entering the last of Dipper’s check out information before giving him his full attention.

“Let’s see...you had a total of two visitors, sir,” the man replied. Dipper’s stomach clenched. “Mabel Pines and Pacifica Northwest.” Dipper said nothing, his heart hammering in his chest and he struggled to maintain a calm facade. The man waited, but when Dipper didn’t speak further, he prompted, “Will that be all, sir?”

“Do you allow visitors without having them check in...here?”

“No, sir. that’s against our policy. Did you have someone else visit your room that I didn’t mention?”

Dipper shook his head and whispered a thank you before he joined Mabel, refraining from looking back at the receptionist. They walked out into the parking lot, the sunlight warm on his skin. It did nothing to quell the fear beginning to nest in his ribcage.

“Dip?”

“Huh?” Dipper looked at Mabel over the top of their car, squinting against the harsh reflection of the sunlight off the hood.

“I said, did you want to stop for some food? You never got that hospital meal.”

Dipper glanced back at the hospital doors and noticed a figure leaning in the shadows of the overhang. Dipper swallowed thickly and hurriedly grasped the car door handle and opened it.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s go.”

 

The food run turned into a grocery shopping run as Mabel insisted on increasing their supply of salty snacks and sugary treats. It struck Dipper that, as Mabel was hunched over their shopping cart to rearrange the items therein, that she seemed perfectly fine. After being nearly _electrocuted_ four nights prior.

“Mabel, are you alright?”

“Good as ever, bro bro! These frosted animal crackers are gonna rock my world. As long as I don’t eat them too fast. Remember last time,” she snorted as she shoved a six pack of bottled root beer to the back of their cart.

“Well, I’m a horrible brother.”

Mabel whipped around so fast that Dipper had to back up in order to avoid the whirlwind that was her hair.

“Excuse me? Why are you talking like that?”

“Mabel, I forgot that you were hurt the night at the building! You were shocked, or zapped, or something! You passed out and then I passed out, and here we are, three days later, and I’ve been _stabbed_ , and you seem fine, even though I didn’t even ask how you were!”

“Dipper.”

“I mean, what kind of sibling forgets their _twin_ was in danger and forgets to ask after their health? How inconsiderate is that?”

“ _Dipper_.”

“And we still don’t know what was wrong with Jason, or what he summoned or conjured, and we’re shopping for junk food like everything’s fine, everything’s normal, when it really, really isn’t, Mabel. It’s kinda fucked up, I mean, what are we even _doing_ here if the town could potentially be in danger? Isn’t that our job, to make sure-”

“Dipper, _breathe_.”

Mabel gripped his upper arms, her face stern and focused, giving Dipper something to focus on in turn as he tried to breathe properly. His clarity slowly returned to him, his heart beating fast in his chest. He suddenly felt sick.

Mabel moved his hands so that he could hold onto the cart and she wordlessly left the aisle. Dipper stared at the contents of the cart, ignoring the nausea rising in his throat. Mabel quickly returned and handed him a cold water bottle. He took it, his thumb tracing the condensation along the plastic label.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.”

Dipper sipped at his water as he followed Mabel around the store. His nausea faded, leaving him feeling tired but relieved. Mabel had declared that a long nap was in order as they left the frozen section and headed for the registers. Dipper agreed, his eyelids growing heavy, when Mabel suddenly stopped, causing him to bump into her and drop his bottle. Dipper gave her a long suffering look as it rolled away down the laundry aisle. Mabel sheepishly grinned, explained that she forgot something, and left Dipper with the cart and his stray bottle. He pulled the cart the side and grumbled as he shuffled down the aisle to retrieve his bottle. He bent down with his knees, careful of his stitches, and picked the bottle up, only to feel a whisper of a touch trace his right shoulder and disappear.

Twisting around, Dipper looked for the source, and caught a glimpse of a figure in dark clothing turn out of the aisle. Dipper quickly followed, tossing his bottle into their cart and leaving it behind. Dipper watched the figure turn down a different aisle, long legs carrying them fast and far. Dipper sped up, nearly jogging as he went into the aisle and found nothing. He heard the squeak of sneakers and a laugh the next aisle over and chased after it, his mind following one track of catching the figure.

Dipper breathed hard but ignored the ache of his muscles and the stretch of the stitches in his skin. He ran, twining through the aisles and rows of displays of the store until he screeched to a halt at the back doors that led to storage and the loading docks. The figure stood still, their back turned to Dipper, the rise and fall of their chest obscured by the black hoodie that they wore. Dipper could hear their breath before it turned into a laugh. Goosebumps spilled across Dipper’s skin at the sound, leaving him distracted enough for the figure to bolt through the swing doors and into the back room.

Dipper clutched at his side, pain shooting out from his wound, but he determinedly ignored it in favor of following the figure. The temperature drop was enough to knock Dipper back into his senses, his eyes searching and his ear attuned to his surroundings as he stepped quietly across the concrete floor. With controlled breath, he slipped between palettes of food and hunched down, listening for the squeak of a sneaker or a trace of a laugh.

He heard a snap, followed by a curse, and Dipper sprinted after it, coming to a stop when he reached the truck loading area. He looked around for movement when something heavy knocked into his side, sending him colliding with a wall.

Dipper opened his eyes to see bright yellow ones staring back at him, the only discernible feature that Dipper could see. Long arms braced either side of Dipper’s head, essentially trapping him.

“You’re awfully persistent,” the figure said, voice surprisingly quiet and calm. The figure leaned in, and Dipper held his breath as he felt more than heard a hum in his right ear. The figure laughed, hot breath ghosting over Dipper’s skin and making him shiver. Lips barely touching flesh, the figure whispered, “Patience.”

The presence over Dipper’s body suddenly vanished, and he opened his eyes to see a sliver of light shining from the open loading dock door, the space big enough for a body to slide under. Dipper slid down the wall, the concrete cold beneath him as he sat down to catch his breath. Dipper zoned out, piecing information and intuition together to try to see the bigger picture. He _knew_ that that was the same figure from the hospital, the one that watched him sleep and haunted his peripherals. Now he needed to figure out who or what it was.

The scratch of the store intercom echoed throughout the loading dock area, bringing Dipper back to the present.

“If a Dipper Pines would please come to register three. Dipper Pines. Your sister is worried and...also needs an opinion on hair bows.”

 

\---

 

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Dipper considered the question seriously, his hands wrapped around a bottle of root beer. Mabel had _certainly_ planned a coming home party for him, making Pacifica the only other guest. He lifted his head, eyes trailing from the fire and up to Pacifica’s face, her features soft. Dipper felt a wave of affection for her and moved to bump his shoulder into hers before taking a sip from his bottle.

“Actually, yeah. Thanks. It was your idea, right?”

“Hmm, maybe partially. Mabel put it all together, but I guess I had some part in starting it.”

The bonfire in front of them crackled, Mabel humming as she held a marshmallow above the flames. Both of them smiled as they glanced at her and back to each other.

“It’s a lot better than hospital food.”

Pacifica laughed before scooping a spoonful of coleslaw into her mouth. Dipper followed suit, taking another bite of his barbeque sandwich immediately after.

“You guys are slow. All the s'mores will be gone by the time you finish.”

“Maybe if you stopped eating them all, we wouldn’t have to hurry,” Dipper countered through his mouthful of food. Pacifica threw a napkin at him and shook her head, her disapproval of his manners apparent. He smiled while he chewed and Pacifica rolled her eyes at him, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

Mabel, newly fixed s’more in hand, plopped down next to Pacifica, bunching the blanket underneath them as she crossed her legs. The girls spoke to each other between bites of their food, and Dipper was content to listen and watch the fire, feeling relaxed for the first time that day. He had told the both of them what had happened in the grocery store and in his hospital room, and so they took proper care to ward the area around their bonfire, as well as have some equipment nearby in case of the possibility of a fight. The figure had been watching for days; who was to say it wasn’t watching now, beyond the treeline?

Focused on the fire, Dipper watched the center of it flicker, the space emptying, reigniting, and shifting. It felt rhythmic, purposeful. He felt lulled, pulled in and submerged, until he heard the faintest whisper.

 _Ip_.

Cold horror seized Dipper’s heart, his eyes tracking the flame and how it spit and cracked, embers and ash littering the ground beyond the circle of stones that contained it. The familiar need to run rushed through his system. He knew that Mabel and Pacifica were in danger if remained seated by the fire, and without a word, Dipper stood and walked away.

“Dip, where are you going?” Mabel asked after him. He could hear the shuffling of clothes and knew she meant to follow him. He wanted to shout at her, to scare her way in order to keep her safe.

“Just going for a walk. I’ll be back soon," he replied as calmly as he could. He didn’t know if what he said was a lie, but if it kept her safe, if it kept them both safe, he would do what was necessary.

Dipper didn’t run. He felt eyes on him, shadows warping and moving around him, curious and thirsty. He stepped over broken tree limbs and through leaf litter, mud caking on his shoes and ankles. His stitches stretched when his lungs expanded. He ignored the pain and continued to walk.

The path to the clearing was dark, the growing canopy blocking the majority of the moonlight. It was early in the year for fireflies, yet he watched their faint, blinking lights as he moved between the trees. When he reached the clearing, he stopped, a different fire now the center of his focus.

“What do you want?”

The girl stared at him, the flame moving over her skin but leaving no mark. She tilted her head, blonde hair cascading across her shoulders and falling to the side. She clawed at her hair, clumps falling from her fingertips, until her head held none but small patches, the tips singed and black.

Dipper moved forward, and the girl mirrored him, her feet leaving flaming footprints in the soil.

“I’ll ask again, and you will answer or you will leave.”

The girl raised her hand and a line of flame shot across the ground and straight towards Dipper. Dipper shot his arm out, dispelling the flame with a gust of wind. The girl tilted her head the opposite way, her jaw working in soundless motions. Dipper waited, palms stretched and facing the ground. The girl straightened, her yellow dress slowly burning to black.

“Ip. Dipper. Pines.”

Dipper’s throat clenched, but he forced himself to breathe.

“Yes.”

The girl looked at his hands before they flickered back to his face.

“You. Are.”

“I am what?”

“Powerful.”

Dipper swallowed, careful not make quick movements. He shifted his arms closer to his sides.

“How do you know me?”

“Magic flows. Within you?” The girl suddenly twitched, her form flickering before settling again. “Yes,” she answered her own question, staring at Dipper’s feet.

“You’ve seen that already. Why ask me about it?”

“You. Are. Prophecy.”

Dipper froze, his heart halting. The girl held her hand out, clawed-like and charred. He felt pressure squeezing his chest, his lungs and heart struggling against it to keep him alive. He let out a choked plea, a resistance he couldn’t control building within his core.

“Dipper. Pines.” The girl’s face began to crack, pieces breaking like a porcelain doll. “Who else but. You?”

Thunder rolled above their heads, flashes of lightning casting the clearing in a blue light. Dipper’s vision began to blur, the girl and her flame fading as his heart began to slow into nothing.

Dipper flicked his wrist. Lightning crashed in the clearing, making Dipper’s heart jump and begin hammering, his blood singing with his building power.

“Please,” he finally spoke, his vision returning to see the girl, her flame reaching high into the sky as her eyes focused behind Dipper.

She screamed, and a pulse of fire shot out in a ring around her. Quick footsteps sounded behind Dipper until a figure appeared next to him, its hands faced outwards. The girl’s flame suddenly morphed and changed to blue, burning hot and bright. The girl’s screaming turned into sobbing and gurgling as the blue flame consumed her, boiling her body until she exploded in a cloud of ash.

The blue fire extinguished as the first drops of rain began to fall. Dipper looked from where the girl had stood to the figure and realized it was the same one who had been following him.

“I don’t want a fight,” were the first words uttered by Dipper, his hands curling into fists by his sides. The rain water slipped down his bare forearms and dripped from his knuckles. The figure turned, its hood obscuring its face. It tilted its head, scarily like the girl had, and laughed.

“Do I look like a guy who enjoys reruns?” It said, pulling back its hood to reveal a man’s face, all golden skin and wide smile. His blue hair immediately flattened in the rain, his bangs curling down over his eye as he looked down at Dipper. “I really gotta say, kid, you need to learn how to take better care of yourself.”

Dipper’s eyes traveled down the length of the man’s face to where the rainwater collected on his neck, his voice striking Dipper like a hot iron.

“Bill?”

The man’s smile widened as he put his hands on his hips.

“The one and only!” Bill leaned forward, his dark eyes flickering yellow before the color faded. “Now tell me, Pine Tree. What the hell have you been up to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the next chapter will pick up exactly where this one left off. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy. ▲


	6. TXLHW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We all Make Choices, but in the end, our choices make us.” - Andrew Ryan, Bioshock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long break between updates. I have been on trips and to cons and now I have a summer course, so things got carried away and I didn't have time to update. Also, Dragon Age has taken over my life.  
> Regardless, I present to you a new chapter! Reminder that this starts immediately where the last chapter left off, so if you need a refresher, go ahead and reread the last chapter. 
> 
> *REMINDER: I have horror tagged for a reason. Just a warning.  
> **I recommend you listen to both of these while you read (they're both ambient, no lyrics). I wrote this chapter while listening to both:  
> \- http://www.rainymood.com  
> \- https://youtu.be/AlDivIaiuMU  
> ***The Human!Bill in this story is inspired by this art: http://sassafras-cats.tumblr.com/post/118408591413/keep-your-secrets
> 
> I hope you enjoy the update, and thank you so much for reading!

Gloved hands clasped Dipper’s forearms as the demon leaned in close, his teeth bared like a beast prepared to devour its prey.

“Answer me, kid.”

“Why should I?” Dipper frowned, struggling against Bill’s grip. “Why should I answer your questions when you’ve been stalking me?”

“Maybe I have answers to yours!” Bill hissed, nails digging into Dipper’s skin. Dipper kicked at Bill’s shins, but the demon easily evaded his attempts and slung Dipper away from him. Dipper lost balance, his shoes slipping in the rain slick grass, and fell onto the ground. Bill pressed his foot into Dipper’s diaphragm, slowly leaning his weight into it as Dipper gasped in pain. “All those burning thoughts that have kept you awake at night. Wouldn’t you like to have the satisfaction of knowing, instead of fumbling around in the dark like a child?”

Dipper glared at Bill from his position on the ground, his chest aching from the constant pressure from the demon’s foot. He grasped at his leg, his bloodied hands weak and trembling. Bill chuckled above him, genuinely amused.

“Let’s make a deal, Pine Tree,” he offered, gentle in his persuasion; a direct opposite to his use of physical force. Dipper looked up at the demon, barely flinching as rain continuously poured from the sky above them. Bill’s gaze was sharp, determined and curious, and it held Dipper in place, as if anchoring him to that sliver of time. The energy surging through Dipper’s blood slowed as he focused on the demon’s face and considered his words.

“What kind of deal?”

Surprise flashed in the demon’s eyes before he laughed, easing his foot off of Dipper’s chest. Dipper inhaled and exhaled slowly, wincing at how sore he felt as he sat up from the ground. He looked down and wiped at the mud left by Bill’s shoe until a gloved hand reached to clasp his jaw, turning his face up.

“An exchange of secrets. You tell me all the intimate details of what you’ve been up to and how you got into _this_ mess,” Bill motioned behind him to the scorched patch of earth, “and I’ll answer any question your squishy human heart desires. Deal?”

Dipper hummed before grabbing Bill’s hand and moving it from his neck.

“Maybe I already have what I need to know.”

“Oh ho ho, Pine Tree. You honestly think that lying to _me_ of all entities will work?” Bill’s eyes flashed red, his grin tightening. “Cooperate, and I won’t have the need to unravel your intestines.”

Dipper tilted his head, his palms pressed into the earth beneath him, and stared at Bill, who looked down at him in expectation. Blue fire danced along the demon’s fingers, and Dipper felt it, a phantom heat running along his own skin. If he could sense Bill’s magic, would it mean the same in reverse? Is that what Bill wanted?

“I don’t need to make a deal to tell you anything,” he replied quietly, the blue flames extinguishing as the words fell from his mouth. Bill stilled and Dipper turned to look where the girl had appeared in the field, the raindrops on his skin changing patterns as he turned his head. Dipper raised one hand, a pale yellow glow enveloping it as grass began to grow where fire had destroyed it. The mending halted as Bill grabbed Dipper’s wrist and pressed it back to the ground.

“Your magic.”

“What about it?”

Bill narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening.

“You kicked me out of your dream, kid. You’re running on some powerful juice and I want to know where you _got it_.”

Dipper shook his head, the rain pouring faster and harder above him, drowning out Bill’s voice.

“I didn’t take it from anywhere or anyone. I...learned it.”

“Bullshit. Humans don’t just happen to learn magic. It’s too complex.” Bill released Dipper’s arm only to grab at his jacket and hoist him up from the ground. “You’ve attracted some unwanted attention because of it, don’t you think?”

“Do you know what she was?”

“What?”

“That girl! That...spirit.” Dipper hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. “She’s....”

“She’s the one from your dream,” Bill answered like it was the simplest thing in the world. “She wanted your power, kid. Tried to suck it right out of you.”

“Then you...”

“I didn’t save you, Pine Tree. You did that all on your own before I blasted that blondie into bits. _How_  you did it is what I’d like to know.”

“I don’t...” Dipper's head throbbed, his legs growing weak and his vision swarming as the pain increased. His knees buckled and Bill let him fall to the ground. Dipper pushed at the mud slowly swallowing him, his attempts failing him as he wheezed, his lungs choked for air.

“Kid...”

Dipper looked up at Bill, his form blurred from the rain and dizziness.

“Get...Mab-”  Dipper flinched backwards as loud voices filled his head, nothing but angry shouting and bloodcurdling screams. He felt them at his legs like he had in his dreams; clawing him with their nails and searing his flesh with their teeth. Hungry, wanting to consume.

 

_PINES_

_ONLY YOU ONLY YOU ONLY YOU_

_YOU CHOSE_

_YOU HAVE NO CHOICE_

_WRONG WRONG WRONG_

_GREATER OF EVILS_

_PROPHECY_

_PROPHECY_

**_P R O P H E C Y_ **

 

“Dipper!” A familiar voice called to him. He was no longer able to distinguish between those outside of and inside his head. Warm hands soon cradled his face and he flinched, worried that they promised claws. The mud beneath him felt cool and he wanted to be buried in it, to be saved from the fire scorching his skin.

He heard frantic shouts, meaningless words carried above him from unknown tongues, a desperation in their pace. Suddenly he felt weightless, the cool beneath him and the fire above him disappearing. The voices were muted, a silence only filled with the rainfall surrounding him.

Time seemed endless before it stopped, or perhaps started, when he was placed on something soft. The rain had faded, but it had lasted so long that he felt it carried a piece of him as it fell to the earth. Sleep never came, but neither did consciousness. In limbo, his magic flowed effortlessly, filling him up and emptying him out, as it were a tide. He floated there, waiting to be taken to sea or to be thrown onto the shore.

When a warm sensation covered his skin, he was surprised by the gentleness of it. His hair rose and his skin prickled until it settled and the warmth became a comfort, familiar but foreign. He stayed cocooned within it for hours. When he woke, he observed blue flame engulfing him but not burning him. He didn’t panic, but instead turned his head to the source of the fire.

“Look, kid, it’s the only way I know how to warm a human without cooking them, and your sister _made_ me.”

Dipper simply stared at Bill, his face neutral.

“Why?”

“Why? Because your weak body couldn’t do it by itself and you’d get sick and die, or something like that.”

“No, why are you helping me?”

Bill looked pained but exhausted, like he had pent up anger for too long and now was annoyed more than anything else.

“I’m not. I’m waiting for you to be conscious enough to talk about where you got your magic.”

Dipper rubbed at his eyes, moaning at how sore he felt as he moved.

“I already told you that-”

“Then who _taught_ you?”

The blue flames around Dipper burned brighter and hotter in tandem with its master’s emotions. Dipper could have simply waved the flame away, but he didn’t want to piss off Bill more than he already had.

“Bill.”

Bill hummed before he snapped his fingers, thereby dispersing the flames. Dipper immediately felt at a loss as the heat left his body. He grabbed for a blanket across the back of the couch he was currently lying down on and wrapped it around himself.

“So?”

“What?”

“Tell me who taught you.”

“No matter how many times you ask me, Bill, the answer is going to be the same. Why does it matter, anyways? Running out of your own juice?”

Bill scoffed and leaned forward, the blanket around his own shoulders falling between his back and the back of the chair he was sitting in.

“My powers aren’t so fickle. Yours, on the other hand...” Bill made a noncommittal noise and slumped back, crossing his arms. “You can’t even control them.”

“I’ve been studying and practicing for ten years. I’ve been in control of them since I learned I had them. Is that difficult to understand?”

Bill tsked.

“Just because you were in control then, doesn’t mean you are now.”

“Dipper, you’re awake!” Mabel shouted from the entryway of the living room. She sprinted across the room and pulled Dipper into an embrace, burying her face into his neck. “Oh my God, you’re awake, you’re awake...”

Dipper returned her embrace, his heart aching as he felt warm tears glide down his neck.

“Yeah, I am...thanks to you.” He rubbed her back, glancing over her head at Bill before looking back down at her. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” Mabel sat up and smacked Dipper on the arm before wiping her reddened eyes. “Bill told me what happened, how that girl showed up again, an-and-”

“Again?” Bill questioned, frowning. “That spirit visited you outside the mindscape before, Pine Tree?”

Dipper nodded slowly, suddenly turning to Mabel when her words caught up to him.

“Wait, Bill told you? How did you get him to help us? And why did you let him into our house?”

Mabel tried to be nonchalant, shrugging and leaning into the couch, but her trembling lip gave her away. She noticed that he had noticed and gave him a sad smile.

“I was worried about you, Dip. I couldn’t leave you in the field during a storm. There was no way to get you out, especially since our phones didn’t have service out there.”

“How did you find me?”

Mabel frowned, gently rubbing Dipper’s arm.

“You sent an SOS. You know.” She tapped her temple. “Didn’t you mean to?”

“No, I didn’t...”

Mabel sniffed, rubbing at her nose as she crawled under the blanket with Dipper.

“Well, the message was received, bro bro. I didn’t really have to convince Bill to help, but he protested when he had to carry you.”

“He what?” Dipper asked, his voice shrill. He stared at the demon, who shifted in his seat, his face scrunched into a grimace.

“I told Shooting Star that I needed information from you, and when I told her I had...helped you, she bargained that I could ask you questions if I helped nurse you back to health.” 

“You what.” Dipper glared at his sister, his voice flat. Mabel snorted, snuggling deeper into the couch as she looked back and forth between him and Bill.

“I had to utilize my resources, Dip. I didn’t see the harm in him asking you questions. I knew you wouldn’t answer any you didn’t want to.”

Bill mumbled under his breath as he stood from his chair and moved towards the fireplace. Dipper watched as Bill fidgeted with his fingers, his hands locked behind his back. Dipper glanced at Mabel but did a double take back at Bill once he realized he wasn't wearing what he had been in the field.

“Are you wearing my clothes?”

Mabel snorted louder, earning a glare from Bill before he answered.

“My clothes were soaked and I have to mind my human form so I don’t wear it down or make it sick.”

“Are you seriously-”

“I would have taken some of Shooting Star’s but yours were the only ones that fit me!”

“The only ones that would fit the body you stole, you mean.”

Mabel stilled next to Dipper, the sounds of dripping water outside the shack and the fire crackling in the fireplace filling the space between them and the demon. Bill turned around, leaning his back against the fireplace. Dipper immediately recognized the pose from his hospital room. The demon laughed, turning the fire behind him blue.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but this body is one hundred percent authentic.” He gestured along his frame with a twirl of his wrist, his amused eyes glowing yellow. “You brats can’t accuse me of body snatching when this is all me.”

“How were you able to do that?” Mabel asked. The blue flame curled around Bill’s feet and legs before he snuffed it out, his eyes glowing bright in the now dark room. His pupils elongated, seeming almost reptilian, and Dipper felt chills crawl down his spine as the demon stepped closer to the couch.

“A lot of magic and a willing participant.” Bill placed his foot on the couch and leaned into Dipper’s face, laughing at how Dipper recoiled back into the cushions. “You should have seen yourself from where I was standing, Pine Tree. Bloodied, angry, willing to maim and kill if necessary. Heavy breath and even heavier limbs forcing me to the ground. Your attempt was valiant, but you were too late to stop what was happening.”

Flashes of blood, candlelight, and naked footsteps echoed in Dipper’s memory.

“Jason. Jason Parkmont summoned you.”

“Right you are!”

“You could have killed him!” Mabel exclaimed from Dipper’s side. Bill laughed again, high pitched and erratic.

“Don’t worry, Shooting Star. That night was not the night Jason was meant to die.” Bill relit the fireplace before miming looking at a nonexistent watch. “But that night is getting closer.”

Dipper touched his side and along his stitches, the wound they sealed made by the blade that had been used to summon Bill. Dipper’s mind raced, the pounding of his heart matching that of the rain hitting the rooftop.

“Did you give Jason nightmares before you made a deal with him?”

“Are you asking me if I coerced the kid into making a deal? That doesn’t sound like me." He laughed. “No, the kid’s head was already muddled with apocalyptic prophecies and hellish terrors when I found him. Lemme tell you, it sure was a piece of work. Made it kind of easy, actually.”

“Bill, did you see anything? In his mind, I mean?”

“What’s got you worked up, Pine Tree? You didn’t know the guy, did you? Not that it would matter, but it’d be pretty hilarious if one of your buds actually summoned me.”

Dipper groaned in frustration and got up from the couch to grab his jacket near the door. He grimaced when he felt it was still soaking wet and began heading for the stairs.

“Dipper, wait, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine, Mabel. I was in a meditative state for a while. We need to go see Jason at the hospital.”

“Dip, it’s only four in the morning. I don’t think visiting hours start until later. Plus, he’s involved in a police investigation. They may not let us in at all.”

“Not even the guy he stabbed?”

“Maybe _especially_ the guy he stabbed.”

Dipper paused at the foot of the stairs, contemplating. He closed his eyes, fighting against the voices that waited for his reserve to crack.

“Do you think it’s worth a try, Mabel?”

When she agreed, he slipped upstairs and changed into fresh clothes. While Dipper tried not to think of who undressed his wet clothes before, there was a knock on his bedroom door. After he grabbed a rain jacket from his closet, he stepped over and opened it to find Bill.

“You,” Dipper pointed a finger at the demon, “need to get out of our house.”

“After all I’ve done for you? Pine Tree, you wound me.” Bill leaned against Dipper’s bedroom door frame and smirked. “You’re not going to get much out of Jason. He was barely coherent when I entered his mindscape.”

“Why did he make a deal?”

Bill paused, his face thoughtful as he peered down at Dipper.

“He wanted the pain to stop.”

“His cancer.”

Bill nodded.

“The pain took second place once his mind was on the fritz. He wanted to make _that_ stop. He wanted quiet.”

“So you showed him mercy?” Dipper sneered, pushing Bill aside so he could leave his room. Bill followed closely behind him down the stairs and out the door. Mabel was waiting in the car, and Dipper waved at her before he turned to lock up. Bill watched him, and Dipper felt anger rise in his throat like bile.

“He’s going to be silent when you talk to him, kid. Then, he’s going to disappear.”

Dipper gripped his keys but avoided looking at the demon as Mabel pulled the car in front of the shack.

“So killing him is your way of releasing him from his pain?”

Dipper saw Bill grin in his peripheral.

“I’m concluding our deal by letting him escape. He doesn’t want to be in that hospital any longer.”

Dipper glanced at Bill, the demon lifting his chin as if inviting a challenge, but Dipper simply walked down the steps and into the car, never once looking back.

 

“I don’t know, Dip, I feel bad leaving him in the rain.”

“You feel _bad_? For Bill? Mabel, you know he would destroy the shack if we left him inside without warding. I don’t even know why he’s waiting around.”

“If he went through the trouble of making a body for himself, he has significant motivations. I’m not trying to belittle your concern, but if he’s sticking around, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him, right?”

“So you’re saying we should let him stay at the shack, just like that?”

“Better to have the Devil under our roof than know he’ll raise hell elsewhere.”

“That’s...where did you hear that?”

“I made it up. Or I heard it a long time ago and paraphrased it. Who knows?”

Dipper and Mabel shedded their rain jackets once they entered the hospital. They stopped by the main desk to sign in and request visiting with Jason. Without hassle, a nurse led them to his room. The nurse mentioned good behavior, although they took the precaution to strap his wrists and ankles to his hospital bed. Dipper and Mabel looked at each other and nodded before entering the room, where they were left alone with Jason.

They took seats next to Jason’s bed, waiting for him to wake. Mabel updated Pacifica on their whereabouts - apparently, she had left the night before when she learned who Bill was - and continued to text her while they waited. Dipper spaced out, the sound of medical machines and the tapping of Mabel’s phone lulling him, only regaining focus when Jason finally stirred.

“Jason,” Mabel spoke first, softly, hoping not to startle him. Jason’s tired and bruised frame shifted in the bed until he turned his head to look at who was speaking. Brow furrowed, he studied Mabel’s face but said nothing. Dipper assumed it may have been too dark the night they confronted Jason for him to remember her. Jason’s weary eyes turned to stare at Dipper, and they suddenly grew in terror. Jason fought his restraints, his body trembling with the effort.

“Jason, please, I’m not here to hurt you!” Dipper pleaded. Jason’s gaze pierced him, triggering an instinctual terror that made him want to leave the room and run. Danger. There was danger and Jason believed it followed Dipper like smoke. “Please. I just want to ask you some questions.”

Jason shook his head, no longer thrashing in his bed but angled so that he was tucked as far away from Dipper as was possible. His eyes never wavered from Dipper, his breathing a continuous labored action. It reminded Dipper of an animal in fear for its life.

Both Dipper and Mabel made attempts at conversation, but Jason refused to answer, only watching. Nurses came and went as they checked on Jason, but none offered any explanation as to why he didn’t speak. After two hours, Mabel mentioned she needed to sleep before she had to pet sit, and gave a quiet farewell to Jason before asking Dipper to be careful. Dipper managed to be patient, but the night before was catching up to him, and soon his eyes were growing heavy.

“Jason. I need to know what you saw before you performed the ritual. You met Bill, yes?”

Jason nodded once. It seemed he was more willing to answer now that they were alone.

“He offered to take away your illness, to help you escape, right?”

Jason looked scared, his eyes glistening as he glanced at the door. Dipper shifted in his seat, looking at it himself before turning back to the man.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. I won’t interfere with your deal.” The words felt sour in Dipper’s mouth, but what was he able to do? He couldn’t promise Jason anything more than Bill already had. Even if Bill didn’t keep his word, Jason wouldn’t rescind the deal just for words and actions offered by the man who tried to stop him and allowed him to be caught.

“Who came to you before Bill?”

The man shook under his blanket, a small whimper escaping his lips.

“What did you see?”

Tears fell down Jason’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he attempted to control his sobbing. He shook his head again and again.

“Jason, what did you see?”

“Fire.” The whisper sounded like a shout in the room. The man groaned in pain, lifting his head up so he could stare at the ceiling. “I failed.”

“What happened?”

“He’s the only one who can save me. He’s the only....” Jason choked on his sob, causing him to cough. He shook and turned his head to the opposite wall, falling silent except for his shaky inhalations. Dipper waited for him to speak again, but when it was apparent he wouldn’t, Dipper stood.

“I’m going to get some coffee, Jason. I’ll be back, okay? You can talk to me. You can trust me.”

Dipper left without waiting for a reply. He used the public restroom and splashed water on his face before looking at his reflection in the mirror. Something else was happening that Bill had taken advantage of. Bill could have been lying and had actually tortured Jason’s mind, only to swoop in like a savior and make a deal. Sighing, Dipper left the restroom and headed for the coffee machine. As he fixed his cup, he became aware of how quiet the hospital was. It was nearing morning shift, yet there was no activity in the halls or people rushing in and out of rooms. No one was talking. Dipper blew on his cup, the steam rolling off the liquid and into his face. He followed the signs back to Jason’s room number and reached for the doorknob.

Dipper felt something warm and sticky on the handle and pulled his hand away to find red. His heart jumped into his throat and he threw the door open.

“Jason!”

Blood covered Jason’s bed. Red dripped onto the floor and made pools on white ceramic. It left strokes of gore around the bed frame and across the machines that blared a symphony of death. Dipper dropped his coffee on the floor, the sweet aroma mixing with the sharp tang of metal as blood continued to pour from Jason’s body. He was cut down the center, viscera pulled and hung over the frames of the bed. His throat gurgled as blood pulsed out from the cut made there. The cut was jagged as if made in hunger, Jason's muscles torn from connective tissue. Dipper stepped closer, horrified but needing to see Jason’s face, as it was covered with his blanket. Dipper leaned to lift it from his face and shouted as empty sockets stared back at him. He ran, trailing blood on his boots. Why could no one hear Jason’s machines? Why weren’t they answering?

He ran to the desk and found a man slumped over his keyboard. Dipper shouted at him, grabbing at the man’s scrubs and staining them red. Why wouldn’t he wake up? The man’s body fell sideways to reveal his clawed throat, blood filling the spaces between the buttons of the keyboard. Dipper shook as he recognized it as the man who had checked him out of the hospital the day before.

_You let this happen._

Tears brimmed his eyes as he yelled, his throat raw. He reached for the desk phone and called the police, their voices distant as they asked him questions. Meaningless questions. What did they matter now that two men were dead? Dipper replied as best he could, the voices a quiet chorus in the back of his mind. He slowly sank to the floor, the phone cord stretching over the desk. He trembled, trying to wipe away his tears only to replace them with Jason’s blood.

 _Who else could it be but_ you?

Dipper let go of the phone and it swung next to him, the police officer’s voice grainy and waning as it moved back and forth. He waited, the blood drying on his skin, turning it the color of rust as if he were meant to crumble away. He heard the police sirens outside the building, and he suddenly wished it was his alarm, that he’d wake up from this. The line between dreaming and reality was fading; if he couldn't escape them, where could he go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ▲


	7. HAFKDQJH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "little boy in the dark with blood on your hands  
> you can’t keep crying if you want to keep going
> 
> little boy in the dark with your heart now roaring  
> grow up grow strong and focus your fury
> 
> little boy in the dark with a prince on the prowl  
> what life was it anyway, this wreckage of yours?"  
> \- elisabeth hewer

Days stretched and blurred; hours that should have been filled with cameras, questions, accusations, and threats, were instead choked with a terrified silence. Dread built into a monstrous entity within Dipper; one that intended to see him buried in guilt. No one knew what had killed Jason. Dipper blamed himself.

He expressed this to any journalist interested enough to hear his rattled speech and had the stomach for gore. Instead of reacting with shock and disgust, they scribbled their notes on coffee-stained notepads, their only words forming more questions Dipper didn’t want to answer. He wanted to yell at them for their lack of an outburst - how could he be the only one reeling from the bleached hospital floors and the newly dug plot of cemetery land?

The answer was carried by a demon’s laugh on a cold spring morning at the shack.

“Are you really surprised?”  

Dipper stared into the fog laden forest, the rain a constant and cold presence in the hills. The porch sofa creaked beneath him as he curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chin, his boots leaving traces of mud on the furniture covering. He focused on the drops of water clinging to the roof shingles, molecules pulled down by gravity until they separated and joined the puddles on the steps. He could hear Mabel’s and Bill’s muffled shouting from inside the shack. He had no interest in joining them, as every word held memories tainted in blood.

“It was reckless! What if it didn’t work? What if the news got a hold of him? Of you?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, sweetcheeks.”

“I’m not! Dipper is my number one priority. I know you’d only save yourself if things went south.”

“I saved your brother a whole lot of trouble, Shooting Star! Last time I checked, you were fairly experienced with mind wiping.”

“You can’t just erase people’s memories, Bill.”

“I didn’t, I just _altered_ their perceived reality. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they think Pine Tree is innocent. A practice in dissuasion.”

Dipper exhaled, his breath clouding in front of him before drifting away.

“He would have been okay...there were security videos. They saw that he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Speaking of perception; you’re naive, Shooting Star. Of course they would have locked him away and dressed him in orange. There’s money in a story. Savior of the town turned murderer? They’d eat it up!”

“It was wrong.”

“Your sense of morality doesn’t apply to me, kid.”

“Why did you do it anyways? Why help Dipper? If you have no sense of morality, why consider it?”

Dipper flinched as the porch door swung open with a clang, the wooden frame vibrating from its impact with the side of the shack. Bill stalked out, followed closely by Mabel.

“In this context, morality has nothing to do with self interest! This is the way I see it: if something’s going to interfere with my plans, I’m going to do what I can to make sure things stay on course.”

Dipper turned to see Mabel grab Bill’s jacket, her fists trembling.

“You didn’t plan this?”

Bill laughed with his head tilted back, the heat of his breath rising from his mouth like smoke.

“What could I possibly gain from this? I had to waste energy to help your brother escape his inconvenient encounter.”

“Entertainment value.”

Bill looked down at Mabel and hummed at her words. He grabbed her wrists and pried her fingers from his coat before stepping back out of her reach.

“You have a point. What about it, Pine Tree? Ready to sign a movie deal?”

A large drop of water slipped off the roof, its color turning red as it splattered onto the steps. Dipper could smell the sharp tang of iron, feel the itchiness of it drying on his skin.

“I don’t think it’d make a very good one. Maybe a B movie,” Dipper replied quietly, shifting on the couch so that he could lean against the armrest. He pulled his hoodie sleeve down and covered his mouth and nose with it in an attempt to warm up.

“Look, he’s still got a sense of humor!” Bill chuckled. Dipper ignored him, instead turning his head to gaze back into the forest. The woods held many things, but Dipper would have rather seen what awaited him in the spaces between trees than hallucinate Jason’s mutilated body in his own bed.

“Dip...it’s cold out here. Why don’t you come inside?” Mabel’s voice was quiet and unsure, making Dipper grit his teeth. She didn’t deserve to be involved in this...whatever _this_ was.

“I might light a fire out here,” he responded, his voice slow. Mabel shifted closer to him, her slippered feet scratching against the wood of the porch.

“The rain will put it out, silly.” Dipper glanced at her and wiggled his fingers, to which she replied with a small, “Oh.”

Dipper let his magic flow and concentrate in his hands. It felt sluggish and inefficient, like molasses through a funnel. A small flame bloomed in each of his palms, but he couldn’t conjure up more than that. The heat helped him thaw, but as his muscles relaxed, he felt exhaustion creep up on him, and so the flames grew dimmer still.

Bill approached Dipper and sat next to him on the couch, his eyes attentive and eager as he watched the small flames dance. Bill began to reach out to the flames, but Dipper quickly snuffed them out before he could get too close. Bill whined and leaned back into the sofa as Dipper eyed him, weary.

“Probably not the best idea,” he mumbled, the words heavy in his mouth. Bill studied Dipper’s face before smirking.

“Oh, Pine Tree. I’m going to be honest with you. Weird, right?” He laughed and threw his arm up around the back of the sofa behind Dipper’s head. “You’re on the fritz.”

“Wh-”

“Remember our chat when you visited the mindscape? I was right, and you knew I was right. Your magic, wherever you got it from-”

“I told you that I-”

Bill grabbed Dipper’s hair and sharply turned his head to where Dipper was facing him. Dipper hissed at the tangible feeling of Bill’s amusement, twisting and crawling across his skin.

“Listen, kid. You want to figure out what caused the bloodbath, right?”

Dipper nodded, his throat tight.

“You can’t have an unhinged mind and do that, can you? I mean, it’s possible, but not as efficient than if you were operating at full capacity.”

Dipper slowly moved out of Bill’s grip, and the demon allowed it, tracking every small movement with his keen, curious eyes.  

“Dipper’s always had his magic under control,” Mabel chimed, her melancholy tainting the hope Dipper knew she wanted to preserve. “Until the nightmares.”

“If we were to search for a way to stabilize my magic, starting there would be the most logical,” Dipper added as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t find it hard to believe that Jason’s murder and the nightmares were connected.”

“So we start where they began,” Bill settled. The satisfaction in his voice made Dipper shiver. Dipper stood up from the sofa, feeling dizzy from the sudden drop in blood pressure. He steadied himself with a hand on Mabel’s shoulder.

“If you help, that’s your call. This isn’t a deal, Bill. Got it?”

Bill hummed before crossing one leg over the other, the drumming of his fingers against the sofa slowing as he glanced between Mabel and Dipper.

“Dipper Pines.” Bill drug out the syllables, his fingers tapping quarter notes. “A man, lost to the manipulation of those seeking his power, desperately wanting to be pulled back from the ledge before nightmare becomes reality. His sister,” yellow eyes snapped to Mabel, “not so helpless but unsure of how to safely approach the ledge to bring him back. Both chasing answers not commonly found in library texts or spell books. A demon,” tilting his chin, he flashed them a smile, “holding self interests that happen to correlate with the siblings’ desires, obliges them. Enemies bound by common goals.”

Bill rose from the sofa, his body seeming to glide as he circled the twins and looped his arms around both of their necks.

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

Blue fire ignited in both of the demon’s palms, casting the Pines twins in an eerie glow. Dipper shook from the proximity of the energy it exuded, his arms trembling as he slowly removed himself from Bill’s hold. Mabel remained under the crook of his arm, her face impassable as she focused on the flame.

“If you don’t shake, you’re not bound by contract. What was it that you mentioned? About if things went south?”

“I’m....I’m not going to make a deal with you, Bill.” Mabel sounded dejected, her fatigue apparent now that her eyes turned from the fire to Dipper. “You can choose to help us or choose to leave us. Either way, we’re helping Dipper.”

The blue fire dissipated and Bill immediately rubbed Mabel’s head, causing loose strands of hair to stick up with static.

“You know it’s in your corner. It’s not just my advice I’d be lending.”

That caught Dipper’s attention, his palms stinging with the heat of a phantom flame. Bill’s power was substantial; Dipper was affected by that small amount, although he didn’t know how. He had never considered being an empathic type when it came to magic, but then again, Dipper hadn’t been around anything as powerful as Bill since he started learning.

“Alright, Pine Tree, let’s get to it. First nightmare happened when you were sleeping in your room?”

Dipper simply nodded, giving Mabel a reassuring touch on her arm as she sidled closer towards him. Bill smirked and entered the shack, the twins close behind him as he marched through the living room. However, when he reached the stairs, he stopped and sighed.

“What?” Mabel and Dipper asked in unison. Bill tsked before he gripped the stair banister.

“This was so much easier when I could just phase through walls.”

“You’re just lazy,” Mabel rebutted. Bill gasped in mock offense before shrugging.

“I’ve gotten used to common human ‘exercise’ since I’ve been in this form,” Bill said, making air quotes. “It’s strange how close the words exercise and exorcism sound. I’d much rather watch the tail end of a possession than a bunch of sweaty meatsacks jumping around.”

“Bill, please shut up.”

“So polite.”

As they walked through Dipper’s bedroom doorway, Dipper tensed, his eyes trained on Bill’s back as the demon stepped around the perimeter of the room. Surprisingly, he didn’t touch anything. His movements were purposeful. The demon’s humor from moments before seemed to vanish, his thin-lipped expression hard to decipher as he turned to face the twins.

“You have layers of wards surrounding this place, and you’re still being affected by flame girl?”

“Well, not since you burned her in the clearing.”

“Did you construct these wards before that?”

Dipper nodded, catching Bill frown before the demon corrected his expression into a default neutrality.

“I can see all of the recent wards set up around the place. Nothing should have been able to pass through - and I’m not just flattering you, Pine Tree. Your room’s a fortress.”

“We went by Ford’s journals, so maybe this spirit or creature never surfaced when he was writing them,” Mabel speculated. “There has to be some text out there that can help us narrow down what it is or what it wants.”

“It wants me,” Dipper blurted, his fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. “It...it wants me. It mentioned power and prophecy, I told you that.” His voice was quiet, but it seemed to fill the space of his room. Bill stepped toward Dipper, his arms folded across his chest.

“Demons and spirits spout monologues about prophecy, but it’s a tactic, kid. Deals are done much faster when you throw in divination. Nothing is predetermined - causation is chaos.”

“So in the clearing...”

“Like I said before, she was absorbing your power.”

“A harvester?” Mabel offered. Bill clicked his tongue.

“Maybe.”

Heart beating faster, Dipper started pacing the room.

“Well then, how do I stop it? Or did you stop it in the clearing? And if you did, what the hell killed Jason?”

Fingers grasped Dipper’s wrist and held him stationary. His instinct to flee surged through him, panic and repulsion unrelenting tidal waves to his system.

“One step at a time, Pine Tree. You’re a live wire. You need to breathe before you let loose all that energy building up in your body.”

“You can feel it?”

“Of course I can. Magic can sense other magic; and you’re like a homing beacon right now. No wonder the girl could find you so easily in the woods.” The demon slowly released his wrist. “I’m starting believe that you really did teach yourself because putting a target on your back like that is a rookie mistake.”

“I’ve placed wards and protection spells on myself. How did you think I could hide my magic from you in the mindscape?” Dipper argued, his panic swiftly transforming into anger.

“You may have hid it _before_ , but not now, Pine Tree. You’re broadcasting to the entire town.”

“Then what _changed_?” Dipper shouted, teeth bared and hands curled into fists. “Tell me what changed, Bill. You’ve been watching my nightmares for months now, so tell me what happened.”

Rain pelted the roof above them, the sound akin to distant drums growing louder and louder.

“Dipper-” Mabel attempted to reach out to her brother, but Dipper summoned a barrier between them. Mabel gaped at him and hit the barrier, her fists joining the pattern of the rain.

“An all-seeing demon, supposed master of nightmares, can’t even _begin_ to explain this,” Dipper hissed, electricity sparking down his arms and clustering in his palms. “And you expected us to make a deal? I should send you back to the mindscape.”

Bill laughed, a sharp bark as tense as his figure. He hunched his shoulders and positioned one foot behind him.

“The only one stopping you is yourself.”

 

_WHO ELSE BUT YOU_

_ONLY YOU_

_LET IT  H A P P E N_

_CHOOSE_

 

Dipper froze, his heart climbing in his throat. His mind throbbed as the voices broke through his defenses. Screams echoed and fists pounded, his vision swarming with smoke-filled rooms and flame-licked skin.

Bill struck first. Dipper barely blocked blue fire before he snarled and reared back, Mabel’s pleas mute to the white noise roaring in his ears. He threw a punch, his fist connecting with Bill’s stomach. The proximity of their bodies allowed Bill to lock him in a hold; his arm wrapped around Dipper’s neck and his hand splayed across Dipper’s face. Dipper yelled as his skin began to burn beneath Bill’s hand and reached to grab the demon’s throat. He opened the floodgates, his energy shooting out as electricity into Bill’s body. The demon growled, his arm tightening around Dipper’s neck to cut off his air supply. Mabel screamed behind them, but Dipper was already beginning to lose consciousness.

Bill leaned down to whisper in his ear, his voice strained.

“Control it.”

Familiar resistance built within Dipper, memories of the girl from the clearing flashing across his vision. The resistance peaked and suddenly switched to flow back into him, fire and electricity mixing in his blood, making him scream. Voices screamed with him, indistinguishable from each other, the sound funneling down to join him in the darkness.

In a blink, everything was white.

He was in the forest, the trunks of the trees barely visible through thick fog. The fog seemed to follow him as it crept along in his peripherals. Dipper shivered and called out to Mabel, then Bill.  He saw silhouettes shifting within the fog and hurried to follow them, eventually reaching a sharp incline. Dipper could do nothing but climb, the rain cold as it pelted his face. He clawed at the dirt to heave himself up onto what seem like the top of the hill, rivulets of rain turning to mud as they ran down Dipper’s arm beneath his sleeve.

Dipper felt his world tilt and tried to catch his breath. He reached for a tree to steady himself with but the forest seemed to expand, the trees retreating into the fog every time he got close to them. Knees weak, he fell to the ground, mud seeping through his pants where he knelt.

“Hello?” He called out. Sticks cracked under boots somewhere near his right, and he craned his head to peer through the rain. “Who are you? Why are you out here?”

“Why did you follow me?” A voice replied. Bill.

“You wanna know why I’m out here?” Dipper watched Bill step through the fog, ethereal in his movements. He felt captivated as Bill’s face became the only clear thing in his vision. The demon’s eyes flashed yellow, warring caution and curiosity. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?” The demon asked. It all felt surreal. Familiar disembodied voices bounced around him as yellow eyes circled him, the fog swirling like dragon’s breath between branches and around his feet. His hand ached with a building tension.

“Tick tock, Pine Tree.”

Dipper swallowed, his pulse bounding in his throat. He was waiting, but for what he couldn’t say. The rain felt too thick on his skin, so he reached up to touch his face, expecting blood.

The fog towered before him, swallowing Bill’s silhouette until Dipper could see nothing but white. He heard footsteps shuffling through leaf litter left by the winter months, but the movement seemed to originate all around him.

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock,” Bill whispered. The words carried through the fog and surrounded him, the demon’s voice caressing his skin.

Dipper wanted to yell, feeling confused and scared. His hand burned; he willed for the pain to stop as he clutched his wrist.

“Let it happen, kid.”

Dipper’s head twisted around to find Bill.

 

_YOU LET THIS HAPPEN_

 

His hands flew to his ears, the voices building behind the ward he’d placed in his mind. They shouted in chorus, ebbing like waves as if in a chant. Building, building, building. Relentless, heavy, violent.

 

_YOU_

 

Dipper screamed as a maw opened in his palm and spewed dark matter, the thick fluid curling up and around his arm and torso. It dripped like tar from his fingertips, the earth sizzling where it had landed. Different voices joined the fog, delighted and vicious, as the matter continued to spread across the ground.

His heart stopped as the pair of yellow eyes suddenly appeared through the fog in front of him, the demon they belonged to emerging from a white void. Bill reached for Dipper’s arm and drew him near, his teeth set in a snarl as his fingers pressed into skin. Dipper watched the dark fluid retreat from his body and under Bill’s hand where it grasped Dipper. The new voices were silenced as the last of it disappeared.

Dipper prepared himself to be dropped into the mud, but Bill held him, his eyes still holding the same curiosity. He gripped Dipper’s chin, his touch a fraction gentler, and stared down at him.

“Control it.”

Bill let go of Dipper’s face, but Dipper caught Bill’s arm to look at his bare palm. Bill’s skin was cracked, a blue light pulsating beneath it. It was hot to the touch. Before Dipper could inspect it, Bill pushed him away, once again fading into the fog. Dipper stepped forward to rush after him, but fell as the earth below him opened up.

He continued to fall, the chasm pitch black around him and as cold as ice as it leached his energy. It was like fighting gravity, the pull and leap to escape the darkness encroaching on him. He didn’t know how long the fall lasted until it felt like he was surfacing water instead of drowning.

Another blink, and Dipper was back inside his bedroom.

His hand fell from Bill’s throat and caught on his jacket, where he clutched onto the demon. Their limbs sagged, their postures melting into an uninvested embrace as they struggled to breathe, the energy between them palpable. Dipper’s anger dissipated, his eyelids heavy as his head fell onto Bill’s shoulder.

The demon slowly released him and rose to his feet, his expression blank as he gazed at his own hand. Dipper looked beyond Bill’s head, the same visceral darkness from the vision swirling around him like a grotesque halo.

_Do you see?_

 

Bill flinched, his gaze sharp as it skirted the room before his eyes landed on Dipper.

 

_See_

_Se e_

_S E E_

 

Dipper closed his eyes to the voices, but quick movements above and behind him told him that Bill had left his room, leaving him and Mabel’s crumpled form behind. He looked towards the door and caught the sight of a twirl of yellow fabric traveling down the hallway after Bill. Twinkling laughter proceeded it, stirring a primal fear in his gut.

Dipper pushed himself off the floor and rushed to Mabel, gathering her in his arms before dashing through his doorway and down the stairs. He took her to the living room, laid her on the couch, and checked her vitals before wrapping her in a thick blanket. The jostling woke her, her eyes cracking open only to frown at Dipper.

“What’s happening...” She whispered, her voice hoarse. Dipper smoothed her hair down, trying to ignore the reddened skin of her cheek; the same injury he could feel on his own face.

“I’ll be right back, Mabel. I promise.”

Mabel protested, but Dipper was already turned around and heading for the door. The rain softened until its remnants fell in quiet patterns on the roof above him, but Dipper’s heart thundered with the sudden instinct to hunt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience in these updates. I hope you enjoyed this one! I'll update again when I can. The last scene of this chapter will immediately flow into the next chapter.
> 
> Also, take note of the changes in the tags/warnings for this story. Some are a long time coming, but they will come, so buckle your seatbelts. ▲


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